


How People Change

by 10Blue10



Series: The Change Trilogy [2]
Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Blindness, Character Death, F/M, Gen, HTTYD2 AU, Minor Character Death, Minor Original Character(s), War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-22 07:01:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 89,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30034866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/10Blue10/pseuds/10Blue10
Summary: Johann and Krogan are dead, and their army scattered, but the fallout of their search for the King of Dragons is only just beginning. When Viggo figures out the identity of Krogan's mysterious employer, he warns Stoick, who in turn prepares Berk to face a powerful, dangerous enemy. For whilst Viggo may have reformed, there are others willing to tear everything down for revenge...
Relationships: Heather/Fishlegs Ingerman, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III/Astrid Hofferson, Snotlout Jorgenson/Minden, Stoick the Vast/Valka
Series: The Change Trilogy [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2209458
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4





	1. Where We Begin

Six disparate dragons flew in a loose formation through the cold and grey sky. “One last mission before winter sets in, and it’s trashing a hunter camp” Snotlout declared cheerfully. “It’s stuff like this that makes being a dragon rider worth it” he announced. 

“Really?” Hiccup asked, sounding exasperated. “You don’t think that learning about new dragons and saving them is its own reward? You just want to blow stuff up?” 

“Hooky and I like to set stuff on fire. Blowing stuff up is  _ their  _ thing” Snotlout corrected, pointing at the twins. “Hey, speaking of setting stuff on fire; Hookfang, how about you do your thing and flame up? It’s so chilly up here.” The stubborn Nightmare rolled his eyes, but obliged, providing a welcome surge of heat and light. “Aah, much better.” 

Soon enough they arrived at the hunters camp; or former camp, rather, since it was now abandoned. A lot of the trees had been chopped down, making the island seem even more barren. There was still plenty of junk, like ballistas, left behind that they needed to clear out, so that the island could once more be reclaimed by dragons. 

“It would seem that Trygge did mange to convince them to take up the logging trade” Viggo remarked, dismounting from Moonlight’s saddle. “Unless of course some of them are still here, lurking in ambush,” he added flippantly. “It’s what I would do.” 

“Only one way to find out” declared Tuffnut, before shouting “Oi! Hunters! If you’re going to attack, shoot my sister first!” He pushed her in front of him like a shield. Ruffnut promptly retaliated by yanking on his dreadlocks and shoving him in front of her instead. They both struggled, each trying to use the other as a human shield. 

Hiccup whistled sharply to get their attention. “Guys, there is no ambush” he told them, before asking Viggo, “Aren’t you supposed to be teaching them stealth?” 

The older man shrugged. “I never promised a miracle. Besides, they would have made a good distraction” he commented. Hiccup glared at him. “I was  _ joking. _ Now, since it’s been five minutes and no one has leapt out to kill us, shall we get started?” 

“Astrid, Snotlout, Ruff and Tuff, you guys find and disable traps” Hiccup ordered. “Fishlegs and Viggo and I are going to retrieve any paperwork they’ve left behind.” 

“Barf-and-Belch, Hookfang and Stormfly dump cages into the ocean,” Toothless instructed his fellow dragons. “Rest of us set fire to catapults. Biggest boom wins!” 

Hiccup announced, “By the time we’re done here, there should be no sign humans were ever on this island. Before you ask, if you find weapons you can keep ‘em so long as you can carry them” he said preemptively. “Right, are there any questions?” 

Snotlout said, “Yeah, I got one. How is your dragon supposed to blow up catapults that are on the, y’know,  _ cliffs,  _ without you being there to move his tail-fin? It’s not like he can move it on his - oh.” Toothless answered the question himself by pointedly opening and closing his tail-fins in Snotlout’s face. “Since when can you do that?” 

“Since I made him a new automatic tail-fin, obviously” replied Hiccup. 

Astrid remarked, “I thought you didn’t like wearing that fin, Toothless. What made you change your mind?” she asked. He looked at Viggo. “Ah. Why am I not surprised?” 

He insisted, “I merely pointed out that seeing as Hiccup is going to be busy with his new responsibilities, now that he’s deputy chief, it wouldn’t be fair to keep Toothless grounded. He just happened to agree with” - Astrid punched him in the shoulder. 

“I never said it was a bad thing. I think it’s really good. Now let’s move it, people, we’re wasting daylight” she announced. They all went their separate ways to carry out parts of the mission. It had also been Viggo’s idea for the dragons to take care of some of it by themselves, since if they were capable of doing so, why shouldn’t they? 

* * *

An hour later, any remnants of the dragon hunters’ presence had been destroyed or appropriated. They found some gold, which Snotlout immediately tried to keep. Hiccup overruled him and claimed it for Berk’s treasury. “Yes, I  _ can _ do that” he said when Snotlout tried to argue, “and if you want gold that badly why not just get a job?” 

“Because, well...shut up, Hiccup” his cousin grumbled, scowling. Since it was getting dark and their dragons needed a rest, the riders decided to stay put. They camped out on the island, using discarded branches to build a large fire. After they’d eaten, Hiccup, Fishlegs and Viggo started going through the papers they’d collected. “Why do we even  _ need _ to keep all these maps and notes and junk?” Snotlout demanded. 

Fishlegs gasped, protesting, “The maps aren’t junk! There’s no better treasure than knowledge - it’s just that  _ some people _ ”, he sneered, “can’t appreciate it for what it is.” 

“What, boring? Come on, Fishface, like any of this stuff is actually gonna be useful.” 

Hiccup interrupted the budding argument. “Even if it wasn’t useful, we’re still taking it. What part of ‘we need to remove every trace of human presence on this island’ did you not get?” he asked sarcastically. Before Snotlout could protest he carried on, “This ‘junk’ is all the information about who and where Johann was trying to sell dragons to. There might be clues that tell us who he and Krogan were working for.” 

He sighed and looked down at the parchment in his hands. “There are lists of sold dragons here, and the dates line up with when we were fighting the flyers” Hiccup admitted. “We stopped some of them, but I didn’t realise how many had slipped by.” 

Astrid reached over and squeezed his hand. “Don’t be too hard on yourself” she admonished, “we can’t be everywhere at once, and we  _ did  _ save so many dragons.” 

“Besides” remarked Viggo, “all these dragons were captured and sold alive. It might not be too late to rescue them, if we can track down who they were sold off to.” 

Hiccup smiled, feeling a little better. Then Fishlegs exclaimed “Oh! Hey, Viggo, there’s a map of the Faroe Islands here.” He passed over a map with a cluster of islands drawn on it. The others, even Snotlout, came over to satiate their curiosity. 

Viggo pointed out a few places on the map. “There’s a lake here on Vágar called Sørvágsvatn, and from the right place it seems to hang over the ocean. There is Tinganes, where the Løgting is held between chiefs.” He hesitated, and tapped another spot. “That’s where my home village, Vidareidi, lies on the isle of Vithoy.” 

There was a solemn silence. “You...you could still go back,” Hiccup said tentatively. “We won’t stop you. If you want, Toothless and I could come along for, uh, support. We can change their minds about dragons, establish an alliance between our tribes, and then you could maybe give us a tour whilst we’re there” he suggested casually. 

Astrid insisted that if her betrothed was going, so would she. Fishlegs wanted to visit as well, and the twins didn’t want to be left out, so they asked to tag along. Snotlout feigned disinterest, but still asked if he could bring Minden. “Alright, alright” Viggo surrendered at last, “we’ll go there after winter; but it won’t be a short trip. We’ll need a ship large enough for the dragons and provisions for a week's voyage, at least.” 

“Why would we even need to take a boat?” asked Snotlout, “we can  _ fly  _ there.” 

“The dragons can’t fly for a week straight without rest, and there’s nowhere to land on the way” Viggo retorted. “So how else do you propose we get down there?” he asked. 

Snotlout had no reply. “I - you - shut up, Viggo.” He sulked, and the others chuckled. 

* * *

A small, one man and dragon house had been built up on the cliffs of Berk for Viggo and Moonlight to live in. Being a Skrill, Moonlight’s instincts were to be solitary; she had gotten used to the other dragons but she much preferred living apart from the village. Upon their return, Viggo took the notes made by Johann and Krogan to look through them. If anyone could decipher the information, it was him, a former hunter. 

Most of the notes were just logistics, but among the lists of rations and guard rotas, Viggo came across a letter. It was Krogan’s handwriting, and the date was the day he died. “Well, that explains why he never sent it. Now, who was he writing to?” Viggo wondered. The letter was a status report, but there was no name, just the initials DB. 

Who was DB? The initials felt familiar, but Viggo couldn’t place where he’d seen them before. He searched through the names of Johann and Krogans’ customers, in the hopes that one of them might turn out to have those initials. No luck there. The letter held no clues either; all it said was that the mission was nearly complete. Krogan must have written it before their confrontation but been interrupted from sending it. 

Unfortunately, Krogan proved to be as good as Viggo at keeping things close to the vest. He couldn’t remember the man ever referring to the man he worked for by name. It was always “our buyer” or “my employer.” The only thing that Viggo had been able to figure out was that Krogan was frightened of his boss. He spoke so often of the dire consequences for failure that it really wasn’t hard to figure out. 

“I think I’ll have to admit defeat, my dear” Viggo admitted at last to Moonlight. Despite his best efforts, he was no closer to finding the identity of DB. He stood up from the desk and stretched, wincing as it jarred the muscles in his back. They had twinged ever since he’d been peppered with arrows. Just then, there was a knock at the door. 

Viggo answered it and found Astrid waiting. “Just thought you’d wanna know that dinner’s on, in the Great Hall. You’d better hurry before all the good stuff gets eaten.” 

“As it happens, I was about to call it a day. Thank you, Astrid” he said gratefully. She nodded and went back to Stormfly. Viggo turned to Moonlight and said “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Let’s get your saddle on, and we’ll go down there to eat.” 

Moonlight wasn’t comfortable in the noisy and crowded Great Hall. Viggo left her on the steps to go and eat at one of the feeding stations, and entered it alone. Berkians stopped chatting and eyed him warily as he passed; not that it bothered him. He was used to not being trusted. Besides, if he stayed, they’d get used to him. Probably. 

The other riders were sitting at a table near the dais; Hiccup waved him over to join them. “Hey. Sorry for leaving you with all those notes to sort through” the young man said apologetically when Viggo sat down across from him. “Dad figured now would be a great time to have me help him sort through Berks records.” Hiccup rolled his eyes. 

“It is dull,” agreed Viggo, “but isn’t it better to do it now, when the weather is terrible?” 

Hiccup sighed. “Yeah, I know. Just...please tell me you found something interesting.” 

“As a matter of fact, yes. I found a report that Krogan had written but never sent to that ‘mysterious buyer’ he was employed by.” With that, Viggo began to actually eat. 

“How come he never sent it?” Astrid wondered. His mouth was full, so all Viggo could do was draw a finger across his throat to indicate  _ he got killed.  _ “Ah. That explains it.” 

“The bigger question is, who was Krogan working for?” Hiccup asked rhetorically. He looked at Viggo and inquired hopefully, “I, err, don’t suppose this report made the ‘mysterious buyer’ a little  _ less  _ mysterious? Uh, you can tell us when you’re done.” 

When Viggo had finished his meal he replied, “if anything the buyer is  _ more  _ of a mystery. The letter doesn’t even give a name, just the initials DB. I can’t find anything about who DB actually is - he isn’t one of the customers listed in their records. It’s frustrating, because I’m  _ sure _ I’ve heard a name with those initials before” he said. 

“Whoever this guy is, he must really not want to be found” Astrid commented, “if Krogan couldn’t even write his name out. Are you sure he didn’t drop any hints?” 

Viggo shook his head. “If Krogan ever said the man’s name, it wasn’t within earshot of me. Sort of a red flag, now that I think about it” he mused. “I did, however, get the impression that he was just as frightened of his employer as the men were of him.” 

“I know who it is,” Tuffnut announced suddenly. “DB stands for Dogsbreath Bjornson.” 

Everyone stared at him incredulously. “Dogsbreath is my cousin,” said Snotlout, “you  _ muttonhead.  _ Why don’t you pin the blame on another Nut? Like Dullnut, for instance.” 

“Hey!” Ruffnut snapped. “How  _ dare  _ you accuse our late Uncle Dullnut of treachery?” 

Hiccup groaned, exasperated. “ _ Guys.  _ Whoever it is Krogan was working for, it won’t be anyone we’ve met. We won’t know more unless we find someone to question.” 

“You’re right, chief” agreed Tuffnut. “Ruffnut and I will have the thumbscrews ready.” 

“Okay, first, I said  _ question _ , not  _ torture.  _ Second, I’m not the chief” Hiccup said firmly. 

“Oh, yeah.” Tuffnut paused. “So does that mean we should call you Future-Chief?” 

Viggo snickered. Hiccup shot him a glare, and replied, “Tuff, just keep using my name. You can say ‘chief’ when I  _ am  _ the chief, but until then, Hiccup is fine. Listen”, he said to Viggo, “if you do figure out who Krogan’s boss was, tell my dad, okay?” 

“I was planning to anyway. Trust me, you and your father will be the first to know.” 

* * *

  
The mystery of DB’s identity had consumed Viggo. It felt like the answer was right there, hovering in the back of his mind. He knew better than to pursue a line of thought that just came to a dead end, however. So rather than pore over lists of names, Viggo considered everything else he knew about Krogan.  _ He wasn’t Norse, but that doesn’t narrow it down. He had that dragon hunter pin - wait a minute…  _

The icon of a Monstrous Nightmare skull impaled by a sword was a common motif amongst hunters; his own men had used branding irons shaped as that symbol. The image of such a brand on Moonlight appeared in his mind’s eye; Viggo shuddered. 

Still, thinking of brands spurred his memory. He’d seen that symbol branded on someone’s skin, a man who said they worked for… “Moonlight, I know who DB is!” 

His dragon, curled up on her slab, cracked an eye open. “Willow sleep” she rumbled. 

Viggo cleared his throat. “Yes, I uh, suppose I should...” he agreed, chastened. 

The next evening, a storm rolled in. Viggo was pacing back and forth in his house when a knock sounded at the door. Upon opening it he found Stoick the Vast filling the entrance, and smiled. “Oh, good, you got my note” he said by way of greeting, stepping aside to let the man in. “Moonlight’s still out enjoying the nice weather.” 

Stoick replied “There’s a thunderstorm brewing...but I guess for a Skrill that  _ is  _ nice weather, isn’t it?” he noted absently. “So, I’m here. Why all the secrecy?” he asked. 

Viggo shut the door and moved to fetch a couple of tankards. “I’d hardly call it a secret, chief. I merely wished to talk to you in private, and you’re a busy man” he explained, pulling and handing Stoick a stein of beer. “Though I daresay your workload has eased somewhat lately?” he asked knowingly, filling his own tankard. 

“Aye, Hiccup’s doing a grand job. I know he finds a lot of the duties boring; I’m proud of him for sticking with it. With luck it won’t be long before I can pass the mantle on.” 

Raising his tankard, Viggo proposed a toast, “To the future chief of Berk!”

They drank to that, and then he went on, “I believe I’ve figured out the identity of Krogan’s boss. I can’t prove anything, but I remembered...years ago, Ryker and I encountered some rival trappers. Frankly, they seemed rather incompetent, and their leader was...how do I put this...Snotlout, but taller. Now, I don’t know if you noticed, but Krogan wore a pin that looked like this.” He showed the chief a rough sketch of it. 

“Aye, I noticed” Stoick nodded. “Did this ‘taller Snotlout’ have a pin like that as well?” 

“It was a brand. He said it had been given to him by a man called Drago Bludvist.” 

Stoick had just taken a gulp of ale, and nearly choked on it. “ _ Drago Bludvist? _ ” 

“That  _ is _ what I just said,” Viggo commented. “You’ve dealt with him before, I take it?” 

The chief shook his head. “Not ‘dealt with’. Barely escaped from, would be a better way of putting it.” Memories that still haunted him flitted across his mind’s eye. “I...I thought he’d left the archipelago. I should have known he’d be back one day...what else did this man tell you, about Drago? What is he planning, where is he now?” 

Holding his hands up, Viggo replied “He didn’t tell me much; we were too busy, well, fighting. They were competitors, after all. But from what I remember, Bludvist has been gathering an army of hunters and trappers...and dragons” he warned solemnly. 

“I was afraid you’d say that,” Stoick admitted, dragging a hand over his face. “Now that Krogan is dead, it’s only a matter of time before Drago sends another lackey to do his dirty work...or worse, comes here himself. If he comes to Berk with a dragon army, gods help us all” he shuddered, before asking, “What do you suggest we do?” 

“I think the only thing we  _ can  _ do, for now, is watch and wait,” remarked Viggo. “It’s not really the best time of year to be flying out on reconnaissance missions, after all. Besides, the less we draw attention to Berk, the better. The good news is we have time to prepare. It’s not like anyone else knows who Krogan was working for, and he’s dead. The rest of the hunters won’t know to go back to Drago and report to him.” 

“Aye, I’ll give you that” Stoick nodded. He hesitated, and then said “I’ll have Hiccup and his friends meet us in the arena tomorrow. They can help with the preparations.” Viggo nodded. “Good. So, it’s getting late. I should be going” he remarked, standing up from his chair. They bid each other farewell, and Stoick went to return home. 

* * *

The next morning, Hiccup and his friends gathered in the arena. “Your dad didn’t say what they wanted to talk to us about?” Astrid inquired of him as they were waiting. 

“No, he just told me to get you all to meet him and Viggo here.” It didn’t take long for the two older men to arrive; they looked serious. “Dad, what’s going on?” he asked. 

“Nothing, son” answered Stoick. “Well, for now. Viggo and I just have some…news.” 

Snotlout drawled, “Oh, that’s not ominous at all. No offence, chief, but can we  _ not _ ?” he complained. The chief just frowned at him, and he gulped. “Err, sorry. Carry on.” 

Viggo explained, “I had an epiphany the night before last, about who exactly DB is.” 

Astrid inquired, “So who  _ was  _ Krogan working for?” 

“Bludvist.” Stoick’s voice was hoarse, his expression grave. “Drago Bludvist.” 

The riders glanced at each other, confused. “Dad, you know this guy?” asked Hiccup. 

Stoick dragged a hand over his face, suddenly looking ten years older. “Years ago, there was a great gathering of chieftains, to discuss the dragon scourge we all faced. Into our midst...came a stranger, from a strange land. Who carried no weapon, and wore a cloak of dragonskin. He spoke softly, telling us that he, Drago Bludvist, was a man of the people, dedicated to freeing mankind from the tyranny of dragons.” 

The chief continued, “He told us that he alone could control the dragons, and he alone could keep us safe. And he would...if we agreed to bow down and follow him.” 

Snotlout and the twins sniggered at that. “Aye, we laughed too,” Stoick nodded slowly. “Until he wrapped his cloak around himself and cried out,  _ then see how well you do without me!  _ The roof of the hall burst into flame, and armoured dragons crashed through, attacking everyone in sight. I...was the only one to escape.” He looked haunted; it was unsettling. “I hoped I’d never have to hear that name again.” 

There was a long pause. “So...if Krogan was looking for the King of Dragons, you think this Drago is gonna come looking for the King as well?” Hiccup asked Viggo. 

“I’m afraid so. I’ve never had the misfortune of encountering the man personally, but from what I gather, he doesn’t suffer failure more than once” Viggo replied, grimacing. 

Stoick declared “It gets worse. Drago Bludvist is a madman, without conscience or mercy. He’s building an army of dragons” he warned. The riders gasped, horrified. 

“Wait, you said Bludvist? Like, blood fist? I’ll bloody  _ his  _ fist with my  _ face  _ if he tries to take my dragon!” Tuffnut exclaimed. “Hey, V, isn’t your tribal crest a bloody fist?” 

Viggo answered, “Yes, but I assure you, it’s just a coincidence. And I highly doubt that trying to bite or punch Drago Bludvist would do any good. He would kill you.” 

“We can’t keep Berk hidden forever”, Stoick warned, “but we have to do all we can. I know you had your hearts set on going to the Faroe Islands, but I can’t risk any stray hunters following you home. I need you all here to prepare for the war we’re facing.” 

“But dad, if we can prove to Drago that he’s wrong about dragons, there doesn’t need to be a war at all” Hiccup reasoned. “If we can just pull off a capture mission, then”- 

“War is what he wants! Men who kill without reason  _ cannot  _ be reasoned with” Stoick retorted, glaring. “Swear to me that you won’t go trying to talk with Drago Bludvist.” 

Hiccup was on the verge of arguing when Viggo cut in. “Your father is right, Hiccup. Listen to him. Drago Bludvist won’t stop because you tell him he could chop down trees instead of enslaving dragons; he’s a warlord, a conqueror. He murdered those chieftains in cold blood, and if Stoick hadn’t managed to escape, you’d have grown up an orphan” he pointed out. Hiccup flinched; clearly, that hadn’t occurred to him. 

“You’d be putting Toothless in danger as well” Viggo went on. “Don’t you remember? Krogan was at my - at the auction, as a ‘special guest’. He nearly bought your Night Fury, probably to send back to Drago’s army” he pointed out. Hiccup looked stricken. 

Tuffnut raised a hand like he was in class and inquired, “Err, didn’t you nearly sell Toothless to a creepy hooded masked guy? Cos I never saw Krogan at that auction.” 

“Krogan  _ was  _ the creepy hooded masked guy, you muttonhead” Snotlout groaned. 

“And we’re not talking about the whole ‘selling dragons’ thing in front of...uh, heh…” Fishlegs blushed when he gestured at Viggo and realised the man was watching him. Not that Viggo was offended; he couldn’t just pretend he’d never been cruel, after all. 

Fortunately Hiccup then steered the conversation back to familiar ground. “No, you’re right, I’m sorry. If you say this guy is trouble, then I’ll keep away from him. I promise.” 

Stoick nodded. “Good. Now, listen. Bludvist has armoured dragons. I want you to do the same, and forge armour for  _ our  _ dragons. We need every advantage we can get.” 

“I can do that. We should warn our allies about Drago as well” Hiccup declared, before turning to the other riders. “Astrid, you and Fishlegs head to Berserker Island and warn Heather. Snotlout and I will go to the Wingmaidens and the Defenders.” 

Snotlout grinned at that, but Fishlegs winced. “Um, it’s not that I don’t want to see Heather again, but I can’t just...I sort of agreed to be Gothi’s apprentice” he admitted. 

“Aye, and I never said you could go anywhere” Stoick warned his son. “Don’t think that any of this Drago business is going to get you out of your other responsibilities.” 

“But dad” - 

“Don’t you ‘but dad’ me, mister. I’m still the chief!” 

“Since when has that made a difference?” Hiccup asked incredulously. “What was your plan, to keep me here on Berk? I already said I won’t go looking for this guy!” 

“If you want to leave Berk that badly, you can go and warn Alvin about Drago.” 

“ _ Or _ , how about you warn him, and I’ll warn the Defenders. You can’t stop me going.” 

“I’m the chief of Berk and I’m your father, so I think you’ll find that yes, I can.” 

“I’d like to see you try!” Hiccup retorted, glaring at Stoick, who glared right back. They were interrupted by the sound of Viggo clapping slowly. He smirked at the two men. 

“I  _ was _ going to intervene, but that was just far too entertaining” remarked Viggo. The twins sniggered. Stoick spluttered indignantly. “We both know Hiccup is going to go anyway, chief” he continued. “You may as well save yourself the trouble and let him.” 

Stoick scowled, looking between Viggo and Hiccup. “Fine!” he snapped at last. “You can all go to our allies next week,  _ after  _ you’ve helped to start preparing for the worst.” 

The riders agreed; Hiccup gave Viggo a grateful nod when his father wasn’t looking. 

* * *

Hiccup and Snotlout returned from the Defenders with exciting news; Queen Mala was expecting a baby. It was due to be born in late spring or early summer next year. 

The only people on Berk who knew of the possible threat were Viggo, Stoick, Gobber and the riders. They had all been sworn to secrecy; even Ruff and Tuff had been persuaded not to talk about it. At the end of that first week, the riders - including Viggo - met up in the chief’s house. Stoick was visiting Alvin, leaving his son in charge. Hiccup had promptly told Gobber to keep an eye on things in the village. 

“This is bad. This is really bad” declared Fishlegs. “How are we supposed to fend off an  _ army  _ of dragons? The Singetails were hard enough, and they didn’t have armour.” 

Snotlout retorted, “Those guys didn’t even really  _ need  _ armour. Y’know what I think? That this whole thing is a sham. I mean Stoick never actually saw this army, did he?” 

Astrid glared at him. “Stoick wouldn’t have been so adamant about this if he wasn’t certain that Bludvist is a threat. We can’t take the risk that this army isn’t real; if it is, and it comes to Berk…” she trailed off. All of them, even the twins, knew what could become of Berk if such a force descended on it. “The chief’s right. Our best chance is to keep this army from ever finding us...which is easier said than done” she admitted. 

Hiccup grimaced. “We can’t keep Berk hidden forever. If any of Krogan’s men have survived and made it back to Drago...all we can do is prepare for the worst” he said. 

“Indeed” said Viggo, “and speaking of preparing for the worst…” His expression turned grave. “I know you don’t like harming dragons if you can help it, but if Berk  _ is  _ attacked by Bludvist’s army, those dragons won’t have a human on their backs you can just dismount. This may be one time that you have to take drastic measures.” 

“We’re not killing them,” Hiccup said firmly. “I don’t care if it’s tactical, they’re  _ victims.  _ These dragons wouldn’t attack us if they weren’t being forced...to…” He trailed off, eyes wide, and suddenly rushed upstairs to his room. The other riders shared bewildered looks. Then he came back, almost tripping down the stairs in his haste. 

Hiccup unfolded his map of the archipelago and pointed at the northeastern corner. “We know from the Dragon Eye that the so-called King of Dragons is somewhere around here. Krogan must have been sent by Bludvist to find it, and if he manages to capture that dragon, he could use its abilities to control all the others, including ours.  _ But,  _ if we find it first and get it to safety, or somehow persuade it to be on our side, we can protect our dragons  _ and  _ save the ones in Bludvist’s army” he explained quickly. 

Fishlegs declared, “Hiccup, you had me at ‘find the King of Dragons’. Count me in.” 

“Oh? What happened to checking in with Gothi?” 

“This is different! It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity,  _ and _ it could stop this war.” 

Snotlout added “Hey, if you’re off on an adventure, Hookfang and I are coming with!” 

Before they got too excited, Viggo remarked, “I’m afraid I have some bad news, then. Once you return from warning our allies about Bludvist, the chief told me to inform you that he doesn’t want you going far from Berk, especially at this time of year.” 

Hiccup replied, “We have time, though, right? No one knows where the King of Dragons is without the lenses, and we destroyed them. So Bludvist won’t either.” Then he added, “Besides, if anyone can persuade him to change his mind, it’s you. You gotta teach me how to - I’ve been trying to do that for the last twenty years.” 

Viggo sighed. He looked half exasperated and half amused, but also fond, in a way that made Hiccup suspect he was thinking of someone else entirely. “You’re going to go on this mission no matter what your father says, aren’t you?” he asked rhetorically. 

“That depends. Were you planning to betray us and tell him?” Hiccup challenged. 

After a pause, Viggo replied “If I had your best interests at heart, I would tell Stoick so he could stop you, to keep you from putting yourselves in danger.” A smirk curled at the corners of his lips. “It would seem...that I don’t have your best interests at heart.” 

A grin spread across Hiccup’s face; he knew what Viggo meant. “Are you in or out?” 

“We are so in!” Tuffnut cheered. “It’s a chance to defy authority and see an awesome dragon. Besides, you guys will be lost without us Thorstons, sleuths extraordinaire.” 

“I’m in too,” declared Astrid, putting an arm round Hiccup’s waist. He beamed at her. 

All eyes turned to Viggo. Finally, he spoke. “Let’s find ourselves a King of Dragons.” 

* * *

“Timber! Get your timber here!” Trygge bellowed at the top of his lungs. They were in the harbour of a town on the Icelandic coast, Reykjavik or whatever it was called. His men had chopped down and chopped up as many trees as they could, and were now testing the market for logs in a treeless place like this. Much to his satisfaction, a crowd was already starting to gather. People needed firewood for the winter, after all. 

They were willing to pay handsomely for the chance to get hold of Trygge’s limited supply of timber. “Hey, aren’t you guys dragon hunters?” asked one man, recognising them. Or perhaps he’d just noticed their sails, the insignia of which they still hadn’t found time to change or remove. “What happened to those two Grimborn brothers?” 

Trygge replied, “Oh, well, we  _ were  _ dragon hunters...but you know, dangerous work, it sent Viggo and Ryker to their deaths, unfortunately. So my men and I decided to...try out a less intense profession. Trees are easier than those flaming beasts, I tell ya!” 

Granted, not all of the hunters had been so eager to give up their life’s work to chop down trees. Lumberjacking was a cowards job, they said. Trygge had no idea where those men had gone; he’d gotten them out of the archipelago, he’d done his part! If they went back that wasn’t his problem anymore. Best let the dragon riders sort it out. 

As it happened, one ship’s worth of hunters were searching on the far side of Iceland for dragons. They needed a full hold before they could return to their client. Amongst their number were a couple of surviving flyers, and their traitorous former bosses’ cousin, Lars Grimborn. He had asked to join them rather than remain with Trygge. 

Lars was the eldest son of Viggo’s father’s brother. He had never exactly been close to his cousins, but he’d much preferred Ryker’s company over that of stuck-up, know-it-all, backstab-you-with-a-smile Viggo. After that  _ snake _ got his own brother killed, a seed of resentment had grown in Lars. There was nothing he could do about it, however. Krogan took over almost straight away, and then Viggo had come back. 

Now his cousin had abandoned their family business, and gone over to the side of those bratty dragon riders. Bad enough that Ryker was dead, but siding with the enemy? Lars’ resentment had only grown since. Viggo had betrayed their people, there was no doubt in his mind. Well, two could play at that game. Viggo liked games, didn’t he? Perhaps he’d like them less if he faced a different, stronger, opponent…


	2. All’s Fair In Love And War

The dragons needed armour. It was the only way to put them and these war dragons on an equal footing; but it was easier said than done. For one thing, even Gronckle Iron would be too heavy to cover more than their necks at most. For another, now that they had a Skrill on their side, the less outward metal covered them the better. 

Viggo suggested using Screaming Death scales. “I was quite impressed when Ryker told me - well, complained to me - about your improvised defence against dragon root arrows” he told Hiccup. “I have a few ideas on how to make it more effective, too.” 

To pacify the irascible massive dragon, they traded wild boars for heaps of shed scales. “We don’t need to cover the dragons in armour; that would slow them down too much. If the war dragons are as well clad as Stoick describes, being more manoeuvrable will give us a significant advantage” Viggo explained. “But they still need protection on their most vulnerable areas - like the neck, chest and stomach.” 

He advised Hiccup and Gobber to clip the scales together rather than sew them. 

It was a shame they could only make enough to protect the riding dragons. The hard part was persuading the dragons themselves to wear the makeshift armour, even if they understood the need. Yet they agreed in the end, so long as it was temporary. 

Of course they couldn’t make armour for the A-Team’s dragons without more people learning of the threat. Stoick broke the news to the entire tribe one night. “We stand together,” he intoned. “We protect our own, and if Drago comes for us, we will not yield! We will not let him just take whatever he wants from us! Because  _ this  _ is _ Berk _ !” he bellowed. The cheer that erupted in the wake of his speech was thunderous. 

For all their pride, the Berkians knew all too well what a war against Bludvists’ army would entail. Their food would be rationed, homes destroyed, and lives would be lost; both Viking and dragon. The difference was that this time, their dragons would fight alongside them. Hiccup and his friends never spoke a word of their intentions to find the King of Dragons before Bludvist could to the Chief. It was best if he didn’t know. 

* * *

It was a long and arduous journey, but at last, the hunters' ships had reached the armada. Their cog seemed like little more than a knarr, or even a rowboat, next to these massive iron-clad vessels. Lars felt a peculiar mixture of fear, awe and envy at the sight of them. Well, such impressive ships would strike fear and awe into the heart of anyone...and fireproofing them only made sense when one hunted dragons. 

They were boarded immediately, and Lars, much to his discomfit, was made the spokesman. “Err, we’re here to see...I mean, we seek an audience with the great Drago Bludvist. There is something he needs to know” he explained to the stone faced guard with a wolf’s head for a helm. Lars and a few other men were taken to the flagship. There were large bubbles near the prow, as if something lurked beneath. 

Thus left to wait, Lars peered around him in idle curiosity. Now  _ this  _ was a dragon hunting ship. Massive domed traps, huge net or chain launchers, hefty ballistas. Then there were the dragons themselves; some of the beasts were clad in armour, others were chained up, but not a single one was struggling or even snarling at the hunters. 

At last Drago arrived. The first sight of him made Lars somewhat regret this decision; Drago looked like he could snap him in half. The warlord wore a black dragon skin cloak, and carried a bull hook in his right hand. “What do you want?” he growled. 

Lars gulped, and felt the others push him forwards. “M-my name is Lars Grimborn. I worked, briefly, under the command of someone in your army. Krogan” he explained. 

Drago’s black eyes narrowed. He demanded, “You worked for Krogan? Where is he?” 

That was the bad news. “I, uh, I have to tell you...he’s dead” Lars admitted, cringing slightly. From what he’d heard, Drago had a very short temper; sure enough, upon hearing that one of his best lieutenants had been killed, the warlord struck the deck with his bull hook in anger. Much to Lars’ relief, the rage wasn’t taken out on him. 

“How was Krogan killed?” Drago asked next. “Did he find the King of Dragons?” 

Lars dreaded being the bearer of more bad news. “He...he was murdered by my traitorous cousin, Viggo, who joined the side of our enemies...the dragon riders.” 

Drago’s eyes widened, and his scowl deepened. “Dragon  _ riders?  _ Who are they?!” 

“There’s a whole tribe of dragon lovers. The Hooligan Tribe, from Berk. The riders’ leader is their chief’s heir. Scrawny brat called Hiccup. His father’s called Stoick” - 

“The Vast” Drago rasped out. “You are going to tell me everything I need to know about this... _ Hiccup _ , and his dragon riders, or suffer the consequences” he glared at Lars, who quailed, suddenly regretting his decision. It was too late to back out now. 

Even without the threat of torture hanging over their heads, Lars and the other hunters were more than willing to tell all they knew. Especially after being fed. “Which dragon breeds do the Vikings of Berk ride?” Drago Bludvist demanded first of all. 

“Mostly common breeds, your, er, mightiness” replied Lars. “Nightmares, Nadders, Gronckles and Zipplebacks. I think there’s a Hotburple too. Except...the chief, Stoick, he rides a Rumblehorn, Viggo rides a Skrill and...and the heir rides a Night Fury.” The moment he said that, Drago’s expression grew even more terrible, jealous and covetous. When asked if there were more of them, Lars answered, “N-none, sir.” 

Fingering his scaly cloak, which Lars now suspected was not black just from decades of use, Drago questioned “What of their allies? Are there other dragon riding tribes?” 

“There are four other tribes that the Hooligans call allies; an illegitimate rabble of Outcasts, the Berserker Tribe - who aren’t even really berserk, apart from their chief, Dagur the Deranged. The Defenders, who worship dragons; they live on a volcano inhabited by an Eruptodon; and the Wingmaidens, a female cult dedicated to saving Razorwhips. None of them have as many dragon riders or dragons as Berk, though.” 

Bludvist scowled. He regretted not putting forth more of an effort to conquer the archipelago when he first had the opportunity. At the time it had seemed a waste of effort; what did he, Drago, want with a handful of barbarian tribes? If only he’d known that leaving them to their own devices would lead to them becoming his rivals. “There were more than five tribes in the archipelago, when I was last there,” he remarked. 

The hunters explained that many of the old tribes had disbanded, but there was one, on the Shivering Shores, who were supposedly Berk’s allies but wanted nothing to do with dragons. Bludvist made his decision. He would take a portion of his armada - the most dragon-proof ships - and the Beast, and force a surrender from each of these tribes in turn; starting with Berk. Either they would yield to his power, or be destroyed. 

* * *

When the winter was near ending, Viggo learned from the twins that Hiccup’s birthday was approaching; it was at the beginning of Gói. Yet that same time of year happened to be one he’d always dreaded. The night before the day in question dawned, he tossed and turned, unable to stop recalling what it  _ should  _ have been. 

_ “A boy! It’s a boy!”  _

_ “...my baby…”  _

_ “Well done, dearest. Our tribe has an heir. We have a son! He’ll do us proud.”  _

_ “I know...he’s perfect. What should we name him?”  _

“Alvis…” Viggo whispered into the dark, choking back a sob. That image, of his auburn haired wife holding their tiny newborn son, was branded onto his blind left eye and his still working right one. Open or closed, he could see them and it made his heart ache. “Alvis, my boy...I’m sorry.” 

There was a rustling noise, a creak, and then a steady purr close by. “Willow-sire miss offspring?” asked Moonlight, crouching close. Viggo reached out to stroke her. 

“I do miss him,” he murmured. “Tomorrow...or perhaps today, if it’s dawn by now...it would have been his fifteenth birthday. I would have taught him to wield a sword. I’d have taught him everything I...” Viggo sighed, dragging a hand over his scarred face. “Whoever said that you can’t miss what you never had was a fool” he said bitterly. 

Moonlight purred in sympathy and he gave her a grateful pat. “I should be visiting my son’s grave, at the very least, but that’s in Vidareidi and I’m here, being a coward.” 

His Skrill growled lightly. “Willow not coward. Want-fly in winter? Fly over ocean? Skrill can-fly for a long time through cold. Skrill and rider, not-so-much” she retorted. 

“Heh. I suppose you have a point, my dear” he admitted. Despite his fitful rest, Viggo didn’t see the point of trying to go back to sleep. It wasn’t long before he got out of bed and pulled his clothes on. A long sleeved tunic, a gambeson, arm bracers, a scaled belt, trousers and boots. He’d not worn spiked pauldrons for months; having too much metal sticking out wasn’t a good idea when one rode a Skrill, after all. 

He opened the shutters to let fresh air stream in. It was still cold and the sun was still low, but for the first time in months the sky was clear. Viggo turned to Moonlight and suggested, “Why don’t we make the most of the lack of bad weather, hm?” She spread her wings eagerly. He saddled her, then donned gloves to keep out the cold. 

When they emerged from the house, most Hooligans were still asleep...except for the black dragon and his rider streaking up and away from Berk. “Let’s go greet our friends, shall we?” Viggo smirked, vaulting into the saddle. Moonlight leapt into the air and gave chase, swiftly catching up with Toothless. He and Hiccup made a dash for a small island, really more of an ambitious sea stack, with a tunnel running through it. 

_ Still so predictable, Hiccup  _ mused Viggo, seeing them fly into the tunnel. Moonlight balked. He patted her neck reassuringly, and directed her to the top of the island. They hid behind an outcropping and waited. Sure enough, Toothless flew out of the other end of the tunnel and right over their heads, only to stop and hover in midair. 

Moonlight flew up behind him. “Good morning,” Viggo said pleasantly, making both Night Fury and rider jump. Hiccup groaned, and pulled off his new masked helmet. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me. How’d you know we were gonna do that?” he asked.

Their dragons landed on a flatter part of the craggy island, and the two riders dismounted. “I didn’t know, actually,” replied Viggo, “but you were clearly planning an ambush of some kind, so I thought we’d return the favour, didn’t we, my dear?” 

“Moonlight knows not-to follow Nightwing into tunnels now” his Skrill declared smugly. 

Hiccup winced, and even Toothless looked sheepish. “Yeah, uh sorry about that...you’re not still mad about the whole ‘freezing you back in ice’ thing, are you?” 

Moonlight considered it. “Not-mad...but still looking for an iceberg to trap Toothless and his rider in” she teased. At least, Hiccup really hoped she was just teasing them. 

“What are you guys awake so early for, anyway? I thought Skrills were nocturnal.” 

Viggo raised an eyebrow at that. “Says the man who rides a  _ Night  _ Fury” he retorted. 

“Touché” Hiccup grinned. “We didn’t even have breakfast, we just...needed to fly.” 

“Taking advantage of the not terrible weather, are we? Can’t say I blame you” remarked Viggo. “As for why  _ we’re _ awake so early, I just couldn’t sleep,” he admitted. 

“Oh. Is, err, is something wrong?” Hiccup asked in concern. It was touching, really.

Before her rider could answer, Moonlight hissed defensively. “He not-need tell you!” 

Toothless growled right back at her. “No, it’s okay, bud, she’s right. He doesn’t - you don’t have to tell me what’s wrong if you don’t want to. It’s none of my business.” 

Viggo explained, “This particular day has just...never been one of my better ones. I can’t say the same for you, of course. It is your birthday, is it not? The twins told me.” 

The young man blinked in surprise. “Err...remind me what day it is again?” he asked. 

“The third of Gói,” Viggo replied, “and before I forget - happy birthday, Hiccup.” (1) 

“Thanks,” Hiccup smiled wryly. It was just his luck that he’d been born in the so-called ‘month of women’, rather than earlier in the ‘month of men’, or later in the ‘month of boys’. There were...some people...on Berk who had believed that  _ that _ was the reason for his unimpressive stature, at least until he’d finally hit a growth spurt. He shook his head in exasperation at himself, and sighed “I can’t believe I forgot my own birthday.” 

“Well, I imagine you’ve been busy. How is the ‘deputy chief’ thing going, by the way?” 

Hiccup grimaced, and he chuckled. “Oh, come on, I’m sure it can’t be  _ that _ bad.” 

“It’s not  _ bad,  _ it’s just...kind of boring” the young man shrugged. “It  _ is _ making me realise how much work getting the School of Dragons up and running is going to be. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but now it’s like we’ll be building a village from scratch.” 

“But you still want it built, I assume. Even if you know how much work it will entail.” 

Hiccup looked determined. “I need it to be built. I can’t - Berk can’t rescue every single dragon, but the more people care about them, the more they’ll be protected.” 

Viggo nodded. “It’s a noble ambition, to be sure…I don’t know about you, but right now I have a more immediate goal, namely getting breakfast” he remarked. “Ah, but perhaps first we could stop at my place? I have a gift for you.” Hiccup agreed, so their dragons flew them back to the island. He went into his house briefly and returned with a rolled up scroll. “I took the liberty of adding to that map of the Faroe Islands.” 

He gave the scroll to Hiccup, who unrolled it and looked over the map, with places of interest marked on the islands. “Thanks, Viggo. Uh, when’s your birthday?” he asked. 

“You’re welcome,” Viggo replied, adding “It’s the twenty-fourth of Harpa, but you don’t have to get me anything. Really, you’ve already given me...more than I can repay.” 

“Too bad, cos I already know what I’m giving you” Hiccup retorted. “And there’s nothing  _ to _ repay. C’mon, I’m starving; if we go to the Great Hall, we can get the good food before anyone else does” he smirked. They mounted up and flew down to it. 

Hiccup’s father and friends hadn’t forgotten his birthday, of course. Vikings didn’t usually celebrate such things, but considering that Hiccup had turned twenty, they made an exception this time. As he watched the young man get teased and given presents and turn crimson as Stoick made a toast, Viggo thought again of Sigrid and Alvis; of how much he wished he could be celebrating a milestone birthday with them. 

* * *

During early summer, they had two visitors to Berk; namely Heather and Dagur. When they arrived the riders were training, getting their dragons used to flying and fighting whilst wearing the new armour. They all landed in the training ring; Hiccup went to find his father, and mentor, because Dagur had something to tell everyone. 

At last Hiccup returned with Stoick and Viggo. “Finally!” Dagur cried, impatient. He jumped up onto a nearby crate. “I’ve been waiting for  _ ages _ to announce this news. The Defenders of the Wing....” he took a deep breath, “have a brand new prince!”

Rather than the burst of applause he’d been expecting, there was a blank pause as his words sank in. “Mala’s had her baby?” Hiccup checked. Dagur looked annoyed. 

“No, we just picked someone at random.  _ Of course  _ she’s had the baby!” he burst out, grabbing Hiccup by the shoulders. “You know what that makes you? An uncle!” 

Astrid hugged Heather and they all congratulated Dagur on his newborn son. “We’ve named him Oswald II, and I just had to come and break the news to you guys in person” he explained. “You’re all invited to his coronation. I mean it’s just Mala declaring him as her official successor to the throne, but there’s going to be a feast!” 

“You had me at ‘free food’” declared Snotlout. “So, I don’t suppose you’ve invited any of the Wingmaidens? Actually, you know what, we can visit them after the whole ‘coronation’ thing” he shrugged. By ‘them’ he of course meant Minden, whom he hadn’t seen in months or talked to except in the occasional letter, which didn’t count. 

“Oh sure, we’ve invited Atali and her honour guard to the ceremony” replied Dagur. “We’ll have it as soon as you arrive; you can leave soon, right?” he asked eagerly. 

Before his father could say anything, Hiccup replied, “We can leave first thing in the morning. We just need to prepare, and I’ve got Oswald’s naming gift at the forge. Oh, and don’t worry, dad” he assured Stoick, “we’ll come straight back home afterwards.” 

Stoick’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, but Hiccup didn’t notice. Viggo did, however. “Congratulations on your, ah, new prince, Dagur” he remarked. “I hope you all have a good time at the coronation.” The others looked at him oddly. “Is something amiss?” 

Dagur replied “Err, no, it’s just I’m pretty sure I said you were  _ all  _ invited? Didn’t I say that?” he asked Heather. She nodded. “And you’re talking like...you’re not coming.” 

“Ah, well, I didn’t think Mala would want me to come, considering our...past history.” 

“Yeah,  _ past  _ history,” Hiccup said firmly. “As in, over and done with. Dagur said you’re invited, so Mala must be okay with it all. Besides, we want you to come, right guys?” 

The other riders agreed, even Snotlout. “I’d prefer it if you went as well,” declared Stoick. “It’d be nice to know a responsible adult was there keeping an eye on them.” 

“Hey!” Dagur cried indignantly. “What about me? I’m an adult! And I’m a dad now!” 

“Just being a father doesn’t make you responsible,” Stoick said disapprovingly. “It’s rather irresponsible to leave your wife and newborn son to come all the way here.” 

Drawing himself up, Dagur retorted “As it happens, chief, Mala asked me to visit you and announce the good news personally. She’s  _ fine.  _ They’re both fine, they’ve got Throk and a whole village of loyal subjects looking after them. Besides, it’s not as if I’m gonna disappear so everyone thinks I’m dead like - well, like our father did.” 

There was an uncomfortable silence, broken at last by Stoick’s heavy sigh. “No, no, it’s - you’re right. I err, overreacted. Why don’t you and Heather come over to the Great Hall? You and your dragons ought to rest and eat after your long journeys.” 

Heather accepted the invitation on her and her brothers behalf. Snotlout was eager to break for food as well, but Hiccup declared “Hold it. We still need to do a debrief.” 

Astrid grabbed Snotlout by the shoulder to keep him from leaving with the chief, Heather and Dagur. When they were gone, he yanked himself out of her grasp and demanded, “since when do we have debriefs? Just hurry it up, will you, I’m  _ starving. _ ” 

“Snotlout, for once in your life, can you not think about your stomach?” Hiccup asked, exasperated. “We have more important things to worry about. Going to the princes’ coronation is the perfect opportunity to begin our search for the King of Dragons. You know, the dragon that’s probably our best chance of preventing this war with Drago?” 

“I thought it would be something like that,” remarked Viggo. “I notice you‘re improving as far as telling lies with a straight face is concerned. Unfortunately, so has Stoick. I believe he suspects you’re up to something” he warned. “You were a bit obvious.” 

“To you, maybe. And my dad’s still letting us go to this coronation. He said he wanted you to keep an eye on us, he didn’t specifically say ‘bring us back to Berk’. So even if he does think we’re up to something, he’s not doing much to stop it, is he?” Viggo had the distinct feeling that Stoick’s words could be taken at face value. Still, he could hardly fault Hiccup for thinking there was more to it than that, wishful thinking or not. 

“We’ll need to take more rations, furs for the cold weather since we’re going further north than ever...our dragons should wear their armour as well, just in case” he decided, before unfolding his map. “We’ll use this island north-east of Dragon’s Edge as a temporary base, and fly search patterns, looking for dragons we can follow back to their nest, or hunters who might be looking for the nest as well. Any questions?”

”Yeah, I’ve got one. What were you planning to do  _ after _ you’d found the King of Dragons?” asked Snotlout. “That is, assuming it’s real and not just a big hoax.” 

“Snotlout, those dragon hunters wouldn’t create the Eye and leave clues leading to the King just as a prank. That would require them to have a sense of humour.” Ignoring Viggo’s indignant glare, he added, “We’ll make sure Drago can’t get to them, and then Toothless and I will try to persuade them to help us defend Berk from him.” 

“From who?” Tuffnut asked, not paying attention, as usual. Astrid rolled her eyes. 

Hiccup sighed and replied “from Drago. Oh, and one last thing. Let’s not tell Dagur and Heather about what we’re doing. They have other things to think about, okay?” 

* * *

Throk was waiting for the riders when they arrived at Caldera Cay. “Welcome back, your maj- never mind” he sighed. Dagur had rushed off to find his wife and son as soon as he’d dismounted. “Welcome, Chieftess Heather, dragon riders...Viggo” he added with a curt nod. Unlike his queen, Throk had not yet forgiven the former dragon hunter for his crimes. He would merely tolerate the man’s presence for now. 

“Hi, Captain” greeted Heather. “It’s been a while. I can’t wait to meet my nephew!” 

The captain of the royal guard relaxed and beamed. “Indeed! The birth of a new prince is a most auspicious occasion for the Defenders of the Wing” he declared. “Of course the ceremony won’t be for a while yet. In the meantime, come. We have food and water for your dragons - and yourselves, of course - over here.” Throk led them over to the refreshments. A juvenile Razorwhip, not yet full grown, was eating there. 

Standing nearby were Atali, Nadia and… “Minden!” Snotlout exclaimed in delight. 

“Snotlout!” she beamed, coming to hug him. “I should have known you’d be here too.” 

“You know me, wouldn’t miss a free feast. Hey, where’s your baby Razorwhip?” 

Minden smirked. “Not a baby anymore. Silverwing!” she called, and the half-grown Razorwhip came over to them. “You remember Snotlout, don’t you?” asked her rider. “I did try to let her go with the other fledglings, but she came back. I suppose she knew she’d need to be a bigger dragon to make the trip to Berk. I’ve been meaning to come visit, but I’ve been busy and I wasn’t sure if she was ready” explained Minden. 

“Hey, don’t sweat it” replied Snotlout, “I’ve been busy as well.” He lowered his voice, though not much, and added conspiratorially, “Hiccup’s gone into tyrant mode again.” 

Overhearing this, Hiccup rolled his eyes, but they were interrupted by the arrival of Dagur and Mala. The latter was cradling a bundle in her arms, from which a tiny pink hand was poking out, and she was beaming. Everybody offered their congratulations. “Thank you for coming to our sons’ coronation ceremony. I’d like you to meet Prince Oswald the Second” Mala introduced. She tucked the cloth down for a better look. 

They could see a small, pink, scrunched up face. Already, a fuzz of red hair had grown on the baby’s head. “At least we know for sure who the father is!” joked Dagur. 

“Oh, he’s so  _ cute _ !” Astrid squealed softly, grinning fit to burst. “Aw, he looks so grumpy; he’s definitely your son, Dagur.” He glared indignantly at her, but was far too pleased with himself to get cross. Mala asked Heather if she’d like to hold her nephew. “Really? O-Okay.” She held Oswald II very carefully. “Oof, he’s heavier than he looks. Aren’t you?” she cooed at him. “Are you a chubby baby boy? Yes you are!” 

Hiccup put his arm around Astrid, both knowing one day it would be  _ them _ with a baby in their arms. Fishlegs and Tuffnut, who had a soft spot for babies of all kinds, were tearing up a bit. Ruffnut, who’d never been fond of infants, just smiled indulgently. Snotlout was much the same. Only Viggo wasn’t trying to get a closer look at Oswald. 

“Hey, don’t you want to see the baby?” asked Fishlegs. Viggo looked uncomfortable. 

“Ah, no, it’s - it’s fine. I only came to be polite, I shouldn’t really...I’ll just be over here” he rambled, pointing over his shoulder, before turning and striding away from them. 

“Well, that was weird,” Astrid said bluntly. It wasn’t like him, of all people, to be so  _ awkward.  _ Mala seemed rather insulted, and Dagur’s brow furrowed a bit in concern. 

Fishlegs agreed with her. “Yeah, I know. Viggo’s usually quite good with children.” 

Ruffnut shrugged. “Maybe he just doesn’t like babies. I’m not really a fan of ‘em either - err, no offence” she added to the new parents. Neither of them was too impressed. 

Hiccup had a pretty good idea of what was really going on. “I’ll go talk to him,” he said. It didn’t take long to find Viggo; the man was gazing up at the statue of the Great Protector. “I’m sorry” murmured Hiccup. “I know this must be hard for you.” 

Viggo said nothing, so he knew he was on the right track. “I haven’t told them,” said Hiccup, offering the only comfort he could. “They don’t know why you’re...you know.” 

Finally, the older man spoke. “I appreciate that.” He sighed heavily. “I shouldn’t dwell on the past, but...sometimes it feels as though the gods are mocking me. I suppose I deserve it. Is it wrong of me to wish they’d had a daughter instead?” he wondered. 

Before Hiccup could think of a reply, Throk noticed them standing there. “What are you two doing? The ceremony is about to start!” he snapped urgently, eyeing Viggo with open suspicion. Undoubtedly he was wondering why the former hunter had been standing so close to their Eruptodon statue, but Viggo couldn’t bring himself to care. 

Dragon riders, Wingmaidens and Defenders alike gathered in front of the dais. “My people, our guests, thank you all for being here. This is a joyous day for the Defenders of the Wing; I am proud to present our heir, and your future king, hereby crowned Prince Oswald the Second.” The priestess came forward to anoint Oswald’s forehead with sacred oil, and Dagur gently placed a tiny coronet on his son’s head. 

Everyone cheered, only for Dagur to shush them all and glare. “Quiet! He’s  _ asleep _ !” 

The mini coronet was removed and Mala handed her son to a nursemaid who carried him to somewhere quieter. Throk stepped forwards and declared, “Long live Prince Oswald!” The crowd, especially the Defenders, chorused “Long live the Prince!” 

* * *

The celebrations continued, and it was a while before Snotlout finally found himself alone with Minden. “So, how much did ya miss me?” he asked her, just before she kissed him. “Oh. A lot, then?” he guessed. “Same here. Last winter felt like the longest ever, and that’s saying something. The chief’s been really paranoid lately.” 

“Seems to me like he had a good reason,” she commented. “You and Hiccup told us that warlord, Bludvist, might be coming to the archipelago, remember? It’s no wonder Stoick is worried. I know Atali is. She hasn’t said anything, but I can tell.” Minden wrapped her arms around herself. “I don’t know what we’d do if he came to our island. We’d have to somehow take all the Razorwhips and...flee, I suppose.” 

Snotlout didn’t know what to say. “Uh...well, that might not be so bad. You could come live on Berk” he suggested. “Besides, if you ask me, everyone’s making a big deal out of nothing. There’s been no sign of this Bludvist guy in the archipelago for  _ two decades _ . Maybe Krogan just worked for some other hunter with those initials.” 

Minden gave a tiny smile, that didn’t reach her eyes. She couldn’t quite believe that, but it was nice to hope. “Maybe. I just wish there was a way to know for sure. Or a way to protect our homes” she admitted. He perked up at this; finally, a way to reassure her! Hiccup had only told them not to say anything to Dagur or Heather. 

“There is! Well, maybe” he said. Minden looked confused. “You know how Krogan and his goons wanted the Dragon Eye lenses so they could find the King of Dragons? Well, Hiccup reckons that if  _ we  _ can find the King first, he can do his whole ‘dragon tamer’ thing and get it to defend us instead. I mean, like, Berk and our allies.” 

Her eyes widened. “That would be  _ incredible _ . Do you really think you can find them?” 

Snotlout shrugged. “All we know is it’s somewhere in the north-east. We’re planning to go looking for it after today; that’s why Hookfangs’ got his armour on” he explained, gesturing to where his Nightmare was showing off to Silverwing. “But you can’t tell anyone else about this, okay? Not even Stoick knows we’re going on this adventure.” 

“Don’t worry, Snotlout” Minden smiled warmly at him. “Your secret is safe with me.” 

* * *

Meanwhile, Fishlegs and Heather were spending time together. It was just the slightest bit awkward; they were great friends, of course, but there had been that brief time when they had courted, and now they weren’t. Except that Fishlegs was hoping that maybe they could again. It wasn’t that simple, though. He had other duties now. 

“Fishlegs, are you okay?” Heather asked him. She laid a hand on his arm and he jumped. “You looked like you were miles away. What’s on your mind?” she prompted. 

He had a lot on his mind, but some of it he couldn’t share with her, as much as he wanted to. “Nothing” Fishlegs answered reflexively, and then winced. “I mean…sorry. It’s not you, it’s just...um...d’you ever feel torn between what you have to do and what you want to do? Y’know, like, you have a responsibility that you can’t just leave…” 

“I think everyone feels like that sometimes,” she remarked. “I mean, now that my brother has gone and become a king, I have to lead our tribe. I never saw myself as a chief, but I couldn’t just ignore it when my people needed a leader. So I stepped up.” She gave him a supportive smile and inquired, “What is it you feel torn about, Legs?” 

_ You, mostly.  _ Fishlegs gulped and fiddled with his dragon cards. “Well, uh...I’ve been helping Gothi with healing on Berk” he began to explain. “Which is good, I mean. It’s just, there’s this girl I like…” Fishlegs turned crimson, “but she’s from a different tribe, and neither of us can just shirk our duties to go live with the other” he finished. 

Heather was no fool, and knew exactly who he was talking about, but she couldn’t resist teasing him a little. “This girl you like...is she pretty?” 

“Very pretty.” 

“And a good fighter?” 

“One of the best.” Heather raised an eyebrow. “She’s  _ the  _ best!” he corrected hastily. 

_ Gotcha.  _ Heather smirked a bit. “She sounds great. Have I met her?” 

Fishlegs didn’t meet her eyes. “Um...yeah? Kind of?” 

At that point she couldn’t help but giggle. “Fishlegs, relax. I know you meant me.” 

“Oh, thank Thor...wait, you do?” he asked in surprise. Then he sighed. “Of course you do. I’m an even worse liar than Hiccup, aren’t I?” He glanced shyly at her. “So, um…”

Heather smiled ruefully. “It is complicated,” she agreed. “You have your duties, and I have mine, and we can’t just foist them off on somebody else. Still...I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about the same thing, now and then. I really like you, Fishlegs.” 

He blushed again. “I - I really like you, too.” They leaned in, closer, and closer…then Fishlegs pulled back, hesitating. “That’s the problem, though, isn’t it? No matter how much we want to be together, we can’t. There’s too much in the way” he realised. “It’s alright for Snotlout. He doesn’t have any responsibilities, and Minden seems willing to leave the Wingmaidens for him. I still don’t know what she sees in him” he remarked. 

“Love is a mystery” Heather shrugged. Hiding her disappointment, she remarked “I’d have thought Gothi would have a successor named already. Is it going to be you?” 

Fishlegs hesitated. “It’s not me” he admitted, “I don’t know who it is, that doesn’t get revealed until she’s died. Old tradition, healer secrets and all that” he shrugged. “But, even if it’s not me...Heather, I don’t know the first thing about leading a tribe! And it’s not like - I mean, maybe your tribe would want ‘Thor Bonecrusher’, but not...not  _ me _ .” 

Heather stared at him in surprise. “Never mind what the tribe would want” she said dismissively. “They don’t get to decide who their chief is courting. Besides, you’ve  _ been  _ to our island. You know that my people aren’t much different from yours, and they aren’t interested in having some arrogant tough guy as a leader, trust me.” 

“Oh. Right.” He flushed again at not having realised that sooner. “So, um, does this mean...that we could…?” Fishlegs trailed off awkwardly. Heather rolled her eyes and kissed him in reply. When they pulled away, Fishlegs gazed at her like she was a goddess from Asgard. “Heather” he said breathlessly, “will...will you marry me?” 

Her eyes widened in surprise...and then she winced. “I...Fishlegs” she began, taking hold of his hands. “It’s not that I don’t want to. I’d  _ love  _ to marry you. It’s just...maybe now isn’t the right time. If there’s another war coming...it would be bad enough if the worst happened and I lost you now, but if we were married, and I lost my  _ husband… _ ” 

With a sigh, Fishlegs admitted “yeah, I might have rushed into that a bit. Sorry. It’s just, like you said, if a war happens, and we never get the chance to marry at all...” His brow furrowed. “I didn’t think that getting betrothed would be this complicated.” 

Chuckling, Heather squeezed the fingers of his broad hand in her own. “Well, think of it this way; now we both have a reason to stay alive through this war, if it happens. Who knows? Maybe this Bludvist guy is nowhere near the archipelago, and we have more time than we think. But just in case...I’m not saying no. I’m saying, let’s wait.” 

“You’re right. I’ll be careful - even more than usual” Fishlegs said half-jokingly. “Promise me you’ll be careful too. Don’t take any crazy risks, okay? I want us both to get through whatever happens, and get married as soon as we can” he declared. She was more than happy to agree to that promise. It gave them both hope for the future. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) I like the book-based headcanon that Hiccup was born on 29th February, but Vikings didn’t use our calendar or have leap years. Gói is equivalent to February-March give or take. Also I do realise that him and Alvis having the same birthday is a stretch, but I liked the idea and the parallel, so sue me.


	3. The Right Thing

Hiccup and his team rose at dawn the following morning. Well, for the most part; Ruff and Tuff had to be dragged out of bed, having overindulged on wine during the previous nights’ feast. Now they were flying in loose formation - or rather no formation at all. “Ugh…” Ruffnut moaned. “Why do we gotta get up so  _ early _ ?” 

With an exasperated sigh, Hiccup explained once more, “Because if we wait, then Heather is going to want to fly back towards Berk with us, and we’re not going to Berk. Do you at least all remember what we  _ are  _ doing?” he asked the whole gang. 

“Yes, alright, you’ve told us a hundred times already” complained Snotlout, who was also nursing a hangover. “We resupply at the Edge, head to Dark Deep, and then go even further into the ‘great beyond’ to find the King of Dragons, so this Bludvist guy can’t get it and use it to mind control all _our_ dragons into doing his evil bidding.” 

Blinking, Hiccup replied “Yeah that pretty much sums it up. Y’know, I’m impressed. I didn’t think you were actually listening.” Snotlout glared indignantly. “Any questions?” 

“Do you have a barrel full of water handy?” Tuffnut inquired. “I need to dunk my head in one. Oh, wait, did you mean about the mission? Ugh, it hurts too much to think!” 

Astrid scoffed “Maybe that’ll teach you muttonheads not to get drunk right before a mission. She looked over at Hiccup. “Please tell me the plan isn’t to just keep flying northwest from Dark Deep until we find the King’s nest” she remarked bluntly. 

“At first, yes, but we’ll keep an eye out for islands to rest on, and rechart our course based on Dark Deep’s position and the stars. Or sun, whatever’s out at the time.” 

Before Ruffnut could ask in all seriousness what they’d do if it was cloudy, Viggo warned, “Heather’s following us.” The dragons slowed to a hover and turned back towards Caldera Cay, where the outline of a Razorwhip was approaching. It turned out, however, not to be Heather and Windshear, but rather Minden and Silverwing. 

Snotlout’s face lit up. “Hey, babe. What, uh, what’re you doing way out here?” 

“I’ve made a decision.” She looked at Hiccup and announced, “I’m coming with you.” 

He rambled, “Uh, see, it’s not that we don’t want you around, Minden, it’s just that” - 

Minden cut in. “I don’t mean back to Berk. I mean to help find the King of Dragons.” 

They all stared at her. Astrid glared at Snotlout and demanded, “You  _ told  _ her?” 

“Well, he never said I couldn’t!” Snotlout protested, jabbing a finger at Hiccup. “And besides, you should totally let her come. Minden’s got a Razorwhip. That might come in handy, and if Heather isn’t coming with us then this is the next best thing. Err, not that you’re a replacement Heather.” he added hastily to Minden. “It’s more like Silverwing is a replacement Windshear!” The young Razorwhip growled at Snotlout. 

Hiccup said firmly, “They’re not a replacement for anyone. Minden, I’m sorry, but you can’t come with us” he told her. She frowned, and Snotlout gaped at him, appalled. 

“But why not? Hiccup, I can help. I can fight!” 

“I know, and that’s why you can’t come. Look, we can handle whatever’s out there, but your people need you more than we do right now” he explained. “Besides, no offence, but if you’re around then Snotlout might get...distracted” he grimaced. 

Minden blushed. “You’re right, I guess I got carried away again. I just wanted to help.” 

“Well, there is one thing you could do,” Hiccup remarked. “In the hut I was sleeping in, there’s a scroll under the pillow. Tell Dagur  _ not  _ to open it, but give it to my dad if...when...he comes looking for us” he instructed. Minden nodded in understanding. 

She and Silverwing headed back towards Caldera Cay. The other riders glanced at each other awkwardly, before Hiccup declared “Let’s keep going. It’ll be a long day.” 

* * *

By the time they reached the Edge, everyone was starving. Whilst their dragons caught fish for each other, the riders slapped together a makeshift breakfast. They had turned the Edge into a place to stash dried foods, and the twins found plenty of unhatched chicken eggs to fry up. As they sat in the clubhouse and ate, Fishlegs picked at his second - or maybe third - helping, wondering how to break the news. 

At last, someone noticed him dithering. “Fishlegs, are you alright?” asked Viggo. 

“Huh? Oh. Yeah, I, I’m fine” he agreed hastily, out of habit. “It’s just, there’s something I have to ask you guys. If...let’s say, after all this Drago Bludvist stuff is over with, and I maybe...left Berk to get married...would you be okay with that?” he asked hesitantly. 

They all stared at him in surprise. Astrid inquired, “Did Heather propose to you?” 

Fishlegs blushed. “Um, actually, I proposed to her. She, uh, thinks we ought to wait, in case something happens and one of us, y’know…” he trailed off with a grimace. “She said she wouldn’t want to lose her husband even more than losing a friend. Are…I mean, are you guys ever worried about that?” he asked Hiccup and Astrid. 

The latter replied, “Of course we worry. I know I’m betrothed to a guy who gets into danger the way other people get into clothes - way too frequently.” Hiccup rolled his eyes at that, but didn’t object. “I get where Heather’s coming from, but the way I see it, there’s  _ always  _ something else in the way. Sometimes you just gotta take the risk.” 

Hiccup added, “as for you leaving Berk, we’d miss you, obviously, but if that’s what makes you happy, then we’ll support you. Right, guys?” he prompted. The other riders, even Snotlout, agreed wholeheartedly. “Besides, a Hooligan marrying the chieftess of the Berserkers means our tribes alliance would be stronger than ever.” 

He looked around the room. “Right, if we’ve all finished eating, we should pack up and get a move on. Oh! One last thing, before I forget…” he rummaged in the backpack he’d brought with him for extra supplies, and pulled out something wrapped in fabric. Turning to his mentor, he smirked. “Looks like I’m not the only one who forgets important dates. Happy birthday, Viggo.” Hiccup held the object out to him. 

“Oh, I hadn’t forgotten” he shrugged, “I just didn’t think it was worth mentioning.” Still, he reached out and took the hastily wrapped gift from Hiccup. When the cloth was pulled away, everyone gasped. It was a masked helmet covered in dark purple overlapping scales, and with a row of short sharp spikes on the back that resembled the spines of a Skrill. Moonlight gave it a curious sniff and purred in appreciation. 

Eyes wide - well, eye - Viggo raised his head and stared at Hiccup. “You made this?” 

Hiccup shrugged modestly. “Not really; I just kept the helmets from our disguises that one time, cleaned them and covered them with shed scales. Toothless’ on mine and Moonlights’ on yours. And I added the spikes, obviously. So...what do you think?” 

“Well that depends” said Viggo, slipping the helmet on over his head. It was a nicely snug fit, and there was only one eye slit. “Do I look more like a Skrill?” he asked. 

Tuffnut answered blithely, “Eh, you look more like a weird ‘man with the head of a mutant baby Skrill’...thing.” Everyone stared at him incredulously. “What did I say?” 

Viggo chuckled. “Close enough,” he said, taking the helmet off again. “Thank you” he told Hiccup gratefully. It was a thoughtful gift that he had not been expecting at all. 

“You’re welcome. Alright guys, let’s saddle up. We’ve still got a long way left to go.” 

* * *

Their next destination was Dark Deep. After the hours-long flight they were all exhausted, but one of the Quakens flew up to confront them before they could even land. “Stop!” Fishlegs shouted, when it seemed on the verge of slamming itself into the ground to knock them from the air. Everyone was surprised by this, especially the Quaken. “You don’t have to attack us. We just want to rest for the night” he insisted. 

Meatlug gurgled and grunted, translating her riders words into something the wild dragon could actually understand. He glared at her suspiciously, but then sniffed, huge nostrils flaring, and rumbled in a thoughtful sort of way. “Hey. You remember us, don’t you?” Fishlegs guessed hopefully. “Your old pals, Fishlegs and Meatlug...yeah?” 

Incredibly, the Quaken did remember them. His slit pupils widened, and he greeted them with a quiet roar. Well, quiet for a Catastrophic Quaken, anyway. Meatlug asked for permission to land. He grunted a reply and turned away, apparently conceding. 

The dragons finally had a chance to fold their wings. Upon landing, both Meatlug and Fishlegs were praised by their friends for their quick thinking. The riders set up camp inside a large cave, by virtue of forming a circle of stones for Meatlug to spit a tiny bit of lava into in place of a fire. Between that and the body heat they were quite warm. 

The twins began to speculate on what kind of dragon the fabled King would be, when they finally found it. “I think it’s gonna be another Screaming Death,” announced Tuffnut. “Because that picture of it on the map was all huge and spiky and cool!” 

“That shape was just what its nest looks like, idiot” Ruffnut sneered. “Obviously, the King will be a Titan Armorwing, and the spikes are all the swords that it’s gathered!” 

Fishlegs rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous” he protested, “Armorwings don’t make their nests out of  _ swords _ , they sleep in caves like any other dragon. Face it, guys, we can’t guess right because we don’t know enough. What I  _ do  _ know is that the King of Dragons will be the most majestic species we’ve ever seen. How could it not be?” 

Viggo agreed, “You have the right idea. Such a legendary dragon must surely be a member of a legendary species. A Foreverwing perhaps, or a Bewilderbeast. The sort of dragon that sounds like a far fetched sailors tale if you claim to have seen it.” 

“Yeah, about that” Snotlout drawled, leaning against a boulder. “Am I the only one who realises that this ‘legendary’ dragon might be just that? A legend?” He looked over at Hiccup and demanded, “What are you going to do if we don’t find anything? You  _ do _ realise you’ve basically taken us on a wild boar chase, right? To find a dragon that  _ might  _ be there, but the only proof you have is a stylised ‘map’ made by hunters.” 

Astrid glared at him, but Hiccup briefly looked uncomfortable. “You know, Snotlout, that is an excellent point” Viggo complimented, eliciting a smug smirk. “I’d been wondering the same thing, but I assumed it was all under control. After all, Hiccup, it’s not like you’d put all of your faith in this one move to win the game, so to speak.” 

Hiccup’s expression was neutral, but shadows of his earlier dismay lingered in his eyes. “Look, I know we don’t have a lot to go on. Just a, a stylised map and a lot of hope - but hope is precisely what we need right now. You’ve all heard what my dad said about Drago Bludvist. If he attacks Berk...when he attacks Berk, at the very least we’ll be at war with dragons again, and at worst...Berk will fall” he declared solemnly. 

Turning to Snotlout, he continued “So yeah, maybe this is a wild boar chase, and if our search comes up empty you have my full permission to say ‘I told you so’. This might be the only chance we have to stop a war, or worse a massacre _ ,  _ before it even starts. So I’m going to keep searching. I won’t make you follow, if you don’t want to.” 

“Woah, hey. I never said I wanted to  _ leave _ ” Snotlout protested. “I just...I just wanted to point out what a stupid idea this really is. To have it on record, or whatever. Do I really get to rub it in your face if I’m right and we don’t find anything?” he inquired. 

Smirking, Hiccup retorted, “Just so long as I get to rub it in  _ your _ face if we do.” 

“Deal!” his cousin declared eagerly, and they shook hands on it with crushing grips. 

Hiccup went back to the map that Viggo gave him. “According to this, there’s an island northeast of here that we can use as a launching point for our search. It’s called Trøfjordur... wait, doesn’t that just mean ‘tree fjords’ in Faroese?” he asked. 

“Trust me, it’s apt. Now, do you mind if I ask you a question?” Viggo inquired mildly. 

“Um, sure.” 

“What exactly  _ are _ you planning to do, if we don’t find the King of Dragons?” 

Hiccup’s brow furrowed. “Didn’t I just explain that?” 

“Well, not really” Viggo interrupted, “you only told us why we need to take the risk. It was an inspiring speech, to be sure, but you never answered Snotlout’s question.” 

“Hey - hey yeah!” Snotlout realised, indignant. “Way to dodge the question,  _ chief _ !” 

The young man winced. “Well...if we don’t find anything, we’ll just go back to Berk.” 

“Oh, undoubtedly; but how should we know when it’s time to stop searching?” Viggo prompted. “The King of Dragons might live just a little bit further than we search. Or worse, what if we find the place we’ve been picturing, and it turns out to be a trap? It’s hardly far-fetched for my ancestors to have set up a wild boar chase, as Snotlout put it, in order to get rid of potential rivals searching for the ‘King of Dragons’.” 

The argument had merit, though Hiccup was loath to admit it. Then a thought occurred to him. “Yeah, but even if they did, you’d know about it, wouldn’t you? I mean, they wouldn’t want to risk one of their own falling into the trap” he insisted. 

Viggo gave him a flat look. “You think the dragon hunters that  _ I’m _ descended from wouldn’t be that ruthless?” he asked rhetorically. “Besides, there are plenty of reasons I wouldn’t have known if it were a ruse. Perhaps the knowledge was lost, and they started to believe their own lie. Or my father never got the chance to tell me, and my grandfather chose not to, for some unknown purpose” he suggested. 

This wasn’t what Hiccup wanted to hear. “Can I ask why you’re only bringing this up now?” he demanded, a bit irritated that Viggo hadn’t mentioned anything beforehand. 

“Because I assumed - wrongly, it seems - that you had considered it already. That you’d looked ahead at all possible moves, like any good strategist would” was the reply. “If you haven’t, that’s...disappointing. I thought I’d taught you better than that.” 

At first, Hiccup didn’t answer. Then he sighed, and admitted, “It did cross my mind; but the Dragon Eye lenses, they couldn’t have been made just for the sake of a trap, and we need to at least  _ try _ . Look, by tomorrow my dad will have realised we, err, lied. Knowing him, he’ll either come after us himself or send someone. If we haven’t found anything in...in two days” Hiccup decided, “we’ll turn around and head back to Berk.” 

Snotlout cleared his throat loudly. “Aren’t you forgetting about something?” 

“I’m sorry, Snotlout” Hiccup apologised, “for not answering your question properly.” 

His cousin replied loftily, “apology accepted - but I have my eye on you!” They went on, trying to pace the dragons whilst also making good time. Doubts flitted through Hiccup’s mind; were they doing the right thing? After all, they didn’t know when Drago might come, only that it seemed inevitable that he would. Hiccup didn’t want his tribe and their allies to fight another war against dragons, or be conquered by Bludvist. 

_ What if the King of Dragons doesn’t want to help?  _ Hiccup wondered, not for the first time. It made him uneasy, because he had no answer in mind. If their best chance at victory rejected them, or wasn’t there in the first place...all they could do was return home, and try to win the war by themselves. They were Vikings, after all, and Hooligans at that - his tribe was known for being extremely, ridiculously, stubborn. 

Hiccup tried to push it to the back of his mind. He needed to focus on the mission. 

Pretty soon, the tired dragons and riders began to settle in for the night. Viggo declared he’d take the first watch, just in case the Quakens changed their minds. “I’m not that tired,” he claimed, waving off Hiccup’s offer to stay up instead. There was too much on his mind. At last, everyone but him and Moonlight settled down to sleep. 

Lately, Viggo had felt like he was being reminded of his distant past, and all that he had lost, by the world itself. First he’d learned that Alvis and Hiccup would have shared a birthday. Now another tribe leader had an heir, a son. Mala looked nothing like his wife Sigrid, and yet he’d barely been able to look at her holding her baby. 

Frustrated, he kneaded at his eyes with the heel of his palms. Years of keeping a tight rein on his emotions, of vowing to never let himself feel that agony. Now it seemed that fate was making up for lost time...or perhaps, telling him to move on? 

The thought gave him pause. He wasn’t exactly past his prime, only in his mid forties. Nothing really prevented him from finding another partner; Sigrid likely wouldn’t have begrudged her husband taking a second wife after her death. Yet it still didn’t feel right. Viggo was no stranger to replacing people on a whim, but his wife, and the son he’d never known...he couldn’t bring himself to tarnish their memories like that. 

Besides, this wasn’t any time to be worrying about such fickle things. If he ever did move on, it certainly wouldn’t be at a time when war could break out any day now. 

* * *

Upon leaving Dark Deep the following morning, the dragons headed mostly east. “Into the great beyond!” Ruff and Tuff cheered in unison. They went on in this vein for a few minutes until Snotlout kicked them both in the helmet and told them to shut up. 

They reached Trøfjordur just after midday. It was a picturesque island, and well named, given the forest covering most of it. They found somewhere to set down in a clearing near a large waterfall, much to the dragons’ delight. After they’d rested for a bit, Hiccup decided “this is a good place to make camp. It’s near water, defensible…” 

Ruffnut grimaced. “Ugh, setting up camp is so much  _ work.  _ Can’t we just use somebody else’s?” she asked, turning back to look out over the rest of the island. 

Snotlout demanded “how d’you think we’re gonna do that? There’s no one else here!” 

“Well, that’s weird,” said Ruff. “There must be a dragon here that makes campfires.” 

This statement was bewildering enough to make the others come over for a better look. Ruffnut pointed, and sure enough, on the far side of the island a thin trail of smoke was rising into the air. “Oh, no” said Viggo, frowning. “I swear I didn’t know about this,” he declared reflexively. “No one should be here on this island but us.”

“What do you mean?” Hiccup asked, though not suspiciously. He put away his spyglass; it was useless, there was too much between them and the smoke. 

“Trøfjordur is on those maps for a reason; it was used as a waypoint between the archipelago and the mainland. There were old Whispering Death tunnels we converted into dragon cages, right where that smoke trail is, but I went back after the hunters had left and they were empty. Of course...we shouldn’t jump to conclusions. It’s always possible whoever it is has nothing to do with dragon hunting whatsoever.” 

Astrid said reasonably “We don’t even know if it is a campfire. It could be anything.”

“True, but I’d rather know more about what’s going on here than less. You coming?”

She smiled and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

Hiccup nodded, and said to the others, “you guys wait here. We won’t be long.” He Astrid and Viggo mounted up again, and their dragons flew towards the mysterious trail of smoke. The idea that it was nothing untoward got put to rest when they saw an area of cleared forest up ahead. Unless it was a Timberjack, but the stumps were too even and low for that. Toothless and Stormfly gained altitude, flying high above a cliff.

Just beyond it, on a peninsula jutting out from the main island, stood a dragon hunter fort. There were net catapults and other ballistas on the cliffs; the wooden keep had an excessive amount of spikes jutting from it. “Someone’s been busy; most of this wasn’t here before” muttered Viggo. The design on that sail looked familiar, but he couldn’t place it. They shared a wordless look of concern, and went back to camp. 

“What are we waiting for?” Snotlout demanded, after the report had been made. “Let’s just go over there, blow up their defences, free their captives, and show them why coming to this archipelago if you’re a dragon hunter is a really,  _ really _ bad idea.” 

“We should wait until it’s dark, at the very least” Hiccup cautioned. He turned to Viggo and asked, “D’you think there’s much risk in them knowing that we’re dragon riders? I mean in case they work for Drago and tell him that they’ve seen us” he explained. 

The older man shrugged. “There’s always risk, but I think it’s negligible in this case. If needs be we can just destroy their ships mast to keep them from following us. Don’t forget, all our preparations are working on the assumption that Bludvist will have already been told about Berk, if anyone found their way back to him” Viggo reasoned. 

“I hate all this uncertainty,” declared Astrid. “We don’t know when or even if Drago is coming, we don’t know if the King of Dragons exists or not, and we don’t know if the hunters back there have captured any dragons...I mean we can assume all we want, but a bit of surety would be nice! Can someone please give me a problem I can solve with my ax?” she demanded, hefting it. Everyone immediately gave her a wide berth. 

Well, except for Viggo. “I can get an answer for the first point and Fishlegs can get one for the third...we’ll just have to wait and see for the second” he remarked calmly. It was cryptic enough to make everyone look at him oddly, and he sighed heavily. “Really, it isn’t that hard to figure out. Hiccup, you know what I mean, don’t you?” 

His apprentice blinked. “Err...you can find out if or when Drago is coming, and Fishlegs can find out if they’ve captured dragons?” Hiccup replied tentatively. “Wait, how is he supposed to do that? And how are you going to do...the other thing?” 

“I was getting to that bit,” Viggo said impatiently. To Fishlegs he added, “if Meatlug hovers directly above the fort, you should be able to look right down into the cages. A couple of them are covered on the top - like I said, they used to be Whispering Death tunnels. You’d get a decent enough view of any dragons trapped inside. As for me...I figured I might as well pay the neighbours a visit, and find out if they know anything.”

Light dawned in Hiccup’s eyes, and he grinned. “Right, because if they recognise you, they’ll just - you can just  _ make _ them think you’re still a dragon hunter. Oh, hey, ask them if they know anything about the King of Dragons” he suggested eagerly. 

Viggo gave a nod and looked at the twins, who were fighting with - or over - the firewood. He cleared his throat pointedly. “It would look a bit suspicious if I turn up completely alone, so you two ought to come with me. You can get a lesson in  _ subtle  _ interrogation. Tricking people into revealing the information you need is an art form.” 

“Err, I knew that” said Tuffnut, before whispering to his sister, “Did we know that?” 

“I have no idea, but don’t ask dumb questions! He might hear you!” she hissed back. They either didn’t notice or care that  _ everyone _ could hear them quite plainly. It was clear that the twins did indeed require practice in subtlety, impossible as that seemed. 

Under cover of their exaggeratedly whispered bickering, Hiccup sidled over to Viggo and asked, “You sure about this? I mean the twins don’t exactly  _ look _ like hunters.” 

“Oh, I’m well aware” came the reply, “but it’s either that or let them help set up camp...surrounded by all this flammable wood. Do you really want to take that risk?” 

Hiccup briefly considered the likelihood of them setting the forest alight by accident, and then remembered who he was thinking about. “Good point. Okay, you guys head out; we’ll set up camp whilst you’re gone. Hookfang, can you go and get some fish?” 

* * *

It was a quiet day, rather peaceful. Even the captive dragons had finally stopped all their roaring and snarling. His ship was tied up at the pier, his men had changed shifts for the afternoon watch, and Eret, son of Eret, was utterly bored. They had been waiting ages for the winds to start changing, so they could return to the armada. 

From what he could tell, this place had once been a supply drop off for dragon hunters moving from the backwater archipelago to the west and the mainland to the east. Six large pens had been fashioned out of old Whispering Death tunnels; or possibly a Screaming Death, given the size of them. Eret’s crew had built themselves this fort over the winter to fend off the cold weather and started catching dragons. 

Eret had also heard rumours that the hunters in these parts had been driven out not a year ago, by dragon  _ riders  _ of all things. There were supposed to be Viking tribes somewhere amongst these scattered islands. He’d have thought they would have disbanded. If - oh who was he kidding,  _ when _ Drago and the armada discovered them, Eret doubted they’d have the sense to concede defeat. 

The rumours were that these dragon riders came from one tribe who had stubbornly clung on to their island for three hundred years. Impressive, if foolish. As he mused on it, one of his ship-hands, Marte, came running up to inform him some other hunters had arrived at the dock. 

Eret frowned; there shouldn’t be anyone else here. He wanted to swear when he clapped eyes on who was waiting for him. That beard and conniving smirk were unmistakable, although the mans’ armour had changed - and was that an eyepatch? 

“Well, if it isn’t Viggo Grimborn, the snobbiest dragon hunter alive” Eret mocked. “Where’s that thug brother of yours? And who the heck are they?” he demanded. 

The two-faced little git replied “I’m afraid Ryker is no longer with us. As for what I’m doing here, can’t a man stop by an island to visit an old friend?” he asked mildly. 

“We are  _ not _ friends” Eret retorted, feeling no real sympathy for the other man’s loss. 

Viggo shrugged. “Well, it’s hardly  _ my _ fault that you don’t have a sense of humour” he remarked. Eret spluttered indignantly. “These are my assistants,” Viggo continued. 

Ruffnut interrupted, despite being told to let him do all the talking. “Ruffnut Thorston, at your service” she smirked, eyeing the hunk in front of her appreciatively. “What’s  _ your  _ name, sailor?” Eret stepped back when she invaded his personal space. Though tempted, Viggo reached out and pulled Ruffnut back by the scruff of her tunic. 

“Allow me to introduce Captain” - 

“I can do that myself” Eret snapped.  _ Interfering git.  _ “I am Eret, son of Eret,” he said grandly. That weird woman heaved an over dramatic sigh, looking at him like he was a prime cut of meat. It gave him the creeps. “Let’s just get one thing straight,” he said to Grimborn. “My men and I were here first. We sailed all the way around this island and didn’t see any sign of another ship, so don’t even  _ think  _ about trying to steal our”- 

Viggo cut him off. “Captain, I couldn’t have less interest in what you’re doing here. If you must know, there are rumours going around. I was hoping you’d confirm them.” 

“If I did know about these so-called rumours, why would I tell the likes of you?” 

“Oh!” exclaimed Tuffnut. “Let me guess. Er, because it’s fun to gossip. No? How about...we can swap rumours! No, wait, the only rumour we know is about Drago and that’s what we were gonna ask you about” he rambled, making Eret stare at him. 

“Drago?” Eret interrupted, frowning. “As in Drago Bludvist?” 

“Well, obviously; how many people called Drago do you know? Look, the word is that he’s coming here, to this archipelago. I figured if you were still working for him…” 

“Of course we still work for him. Don’t have much of a choice, do we?” Eret growled, unconsciously rubbing the brand under his tunic. “...If I tell you what I know, will it make you go away sooner?” he checked. Viggo nodded. “Fine. I don’t know anything. The boss doesn’t exactly make a habit of revealing his plans to us lowly underlings.” 

Ruffnut, who was still undressing Eret with her eyes, purred “He  _ should  _ do, Captain.” 

“You must know something. Why else would you be here, if not because you were sent ahead? To scout, perhaps?” Viggo suggested. If he just needled a little more… 

Eret scoffed. “Scout  _ what,  _ exactly? The crazy tribe of dragon riders that supposedly lives in these parts?” he asked sarcastically. “No thanks. I’d sooner become a eunuch than deal with any lunatics like that.” He was already dealing with one too many. 

“No! Don’t be a  _ eunuch _ ” Ruffnut protested, grimacing. “You’d be like my brother.” 

Indignant, Tuffnut snapped “Hey! I am  _ not  _ a eunuch. Question - what is a eunuch?” 

Resisting the urge to facepalm, or snigger at the look on Eret’s face, Viggo said sternly, “if you two can’t behave yourselves then you’re going right back to the ship.” 

“We have a ship?” was Tuff’s oblivious reply. Ruff had gone back to making flirty gestures at Eret, and if time wasn’t of the essence, Viggo would be tempted to let her continue. It promised to be entertaining, if nothing else. “Oh! Right. Yeah.  _ That _ ship.” 

“Yes, that ship. So, you really know nothing?” Viggo asked Eret. “You have no idea what Bludvist is planning, at all. Pity. I’d heard he’s looking for the King of Dragons.” 

That got a scoff. “A man like Drago Bludvist isn’t about to waste time chasing after an old wives tale” Eret declared, “Just like I don’t have time to waste chatting to you. Some of us have quotas to fill. Marte, Gallas, kindly show Mr Grimborn and his...assistants...back to their ship” he ordered the two hunters on either side of him. 

Viggo quickly retorted “that won’t be necessary. Still, our apologies for disturbing you, Captain. It won’t happen again. I should have realised that a man like you wouldn’t have the information I need. Come on, you two”, and grasped Ruffnuts arm to drag her away. They had barely retreated a few steps before Eret called them back again. 

“What exactly is  _ that _ supposed to mean, a man like me?” he demanded, scowling. 

Hiding a smirk, Viggo answered “Well, you said it yourself, a ‘lowly underling’. Quite right, too; Drago Bludvist is undoubtedly a busy man, why should he explain to hired mercenaries where he intends to conquer next?” he shrugged. “I also have a vested interest in not provoking Bludvists ire, but if he’s not coming to the archipelago at all”- 

“I didn’t say that” Eret cut in, “I said I don’t know what he’s planning. We just get more dragons for his army and get paid, that’s it.” He hesitated and added, “let me give you some advice; if Bludvist  _ is _ coming here, and he finds your lot, then you’d better join with him when he tells you to. Or on second thoughts, don’t, and then maybe he’ll get rid of you for me. Now get out of my sight.” Viggo shrugged, and led the twins away.   


* * *

“Did you learn anything?” Hiccup asked as soon as they’d returned to camp. A large communal tent, more like a canopy, had been erected over the clearing. Hookfang’s bulk, as well as Barf-and-Belch, would be enough to act as windbreaks. If it rained, their thick scales meant the water couldn’t bother them much; it would run right off. 

Viggo swung himself out of the saddle and admitted, “not much. Their captain insisted that he doesn’t know anything, and I think he was telling the truth; but he has heard about a ‘tribe of dragon riders’. So word of us has indeed reached the ears of men working for Bludvist, and likely Bludvist himself by now. Oh, and I mentioned the King of Dragons, but I’m afraid he dismissed it as an old wives tale” he explained. 

Hiccup’s brow furrowed in thought. Ruffnut announced, “I say we capture their leader tonight and  _ make _ him talk. No offence, V, but your ‘subtle interrogation’ didn’t cut it.” 

That raised an eyebrow. “None taken, but might I ask, are you saying this because you want to interrogate Captain Eretson, or because you’ve taken an interest in him?” 

“Both!” she answered blithely. “Eret son of Eret is the man of my  _ dreams _ .” Everyone stared at her in disbelief, or disgust in Tuffnut’s case. “Yeah, yeah, he’s a dragon hunter, whatever. You guys didn’t see his biceps. They’re chiselled by the  _ gods _ .” 

“Seriously?” 

“Hey. You have  _ your _ taste in men” said Ruffnut, with a dismissive gesture at Hiccup, “and I have mine. At least  _ I’m _ adventurous, Little Miss Astrid ‘still-wears-a-kransen’ Hofferson” she sneered. The other woman gaped at her, outraged, and Stormfly hissed indignantly on her behalf. “How does it feel to be the only virgin left on Berk?” 

Astrid stuck her nose in the air. “It feels great, actually, knowing that my betrothed is honourable enough to not expect me to disadvantage myself. Not that  _ you’d _ know anything about honour. Who’d you lose yours to? Oh wait, that’s right,  _ Snotlout _ .” 

“Okay, that’s enough” Hiccup cut in, before the argument could go any further. “There are dragons that need rescuing, so let’s just put our personal lives to one side and focus on the mission” he said sternly. Abashed, the two women agreed to work together. “Thank you. Once it’s dark, we’ll raid that fort. As for everything else...we can decide what to do about that in the morning. Go and get some rest, you guys.” 

* * *

That evening, back on Berk, Skullcrusher landed in the village square. Stoick then dismounted, feeling satisfied with the mornings’ work. Despite the lingering threat of Drago hanging over them, his people were carrying on as normal. It warmed his heart to see them all safe and happy. He just hoped that he’d be able to keep it that way. 

Gobber looked up from his workbench when Stoick came into the forge. “Afternoon, Chief” his old friend greeted, wiping the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. 

“Hello, Gobber. How’s it going?” inquired Stoick. Ever since the possibility of Drago’s return had come to light, the poor blacksmith hadn’t had a moment’s peace. It wasn’t just forging armour for their dragons. Viggo had suggested making mesh nets, like the ones he’d used as a dragon hunter, to bring down attackers from Drago’s army. It was by far the safest way to do so, as a misaimed arrow could kill if it struck wrongly. 

Waving his hammer at the work done so far, Gobber replied “eh, not so bad. Can’t wait till Hiccup and the others are back, though. Be a sight easier with one or two extra pairs of hands.” He stretched and winced as his back twinged. “I’m getting too old for this,” he grumbled. “So, d’you really think all this is gonna be worth it, Stoick?” 

Stoick had asked himself that many times, and been asked by various Hooligans. His answer was still the same. “Yes. I would rather we prepare for Drago’s arrival, and have him never show his damned face, than to hide our heads in the sand and be caught by surprise if an armada shows up on our doorstep” he declared, resolute. 

“I figured it’d be something like that,” Gobber commented. Just then, voices were raised outside the forge; a dragon was coming in to land. Stoick expected it to be Hiccup and his friends; thus was surprised to only see Heather and Windshear. 

Once the Razorwhip had landed, Stoick came over to see them. “Good evening, Heather,” he greeted informally, and with a warm tone. “Where’s Hiccup and the others?” Stoick asked curiously. “I thought you’d all be coming back together.” Then he noticed that her expression was anxious, and his brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?” 

Heather had a scroll clutched in her hand. “Dagur asked me to bring this to you; it’s from Hiccup” she explained, holding it out to him. Stoick unfurled the scroll and read. 

_ Hi dad,  _

_ I know you’ll be angry but just hear me out. We’ve gone to look for the King of Dragons. If it’s out there, we can persuade it to help us defeat Drago. This way we can protect Berk and all our allies, and there might not need to be a war at all. I don’t know how long it will take, but you’ll probably come after us as soon as you read this. _

_ Hiccup.  _

_ PS It was all my idea, don’t blame the others.  _

Stoick’s face settled into a mask. He was well named, after all. On the inside, he was  _ furious.  _ He had forbidden the riders from going far from Berk, and was now regretting his decision to relax that order in the case of Prince Oswalds’ coronation. He should have known that Hiccup would seize the first opportunity to disobey a direct order and look for trouble. To think the rest of them, even Viggo, had gone along with it! 

Gobber joined them, looking confused and a bit worried. “Where are our lot, then?” 

Some anger leaked into his voice as Stoick replied, “Not where they should be.” 


	4. Pieces on the Board

They had considered a stealth mission, but once the alarm was raised, everything would dissolve into chaos anyway. Better to start as they meant to carry on. So that night, when the moon was hidden by clouds, six dragons approached the hunters fort. Toothless and Moonlight, the most well camouflaged, split off from the others. 

Circling the fort, his dark scales hiding him in the night, Toothless picked a target; a catapult perched up on that sea stack. He folded his wings and dived, charging a blast with that eerie rising shriek that struck fear into hearts of many. At last he fired it, darting away from the resulting explosion. “Night Fury!” came the familiar shout; followed by a bellowed order of “Take it down!” Toothless was already out of range. 

Not to be outdone, Moonlight took aim at the net ballista trying to shoot down Toothless. The only warning was ones’ hair standing on end, before a bright burst of lightning shot down like a bolt thrown by Thor himself. Yet it wasn’t as powerful as normal, much to Viggo’s concern. He knew opportunities for her to absorb storm lightning had been few and far between recently, and he hoped she didn’t run out

Below, the hunters fired their crossbows at glimpses of the Night Fury or Skrill in the firelight from the destroyed ballistae. Barf spewed noxious opaque clouds around them on one side; on the other, far enough that his flames wouldn’t ignite the gas, Hookfang flamed up to destroy their night vision, and batted away the hail of arrows. 

“Good girl, Meatlug, hurry!” Fishlegs whispered encouragement to his dragon as she melted a hole through the wooden wall of the fort. Once inside, the riders were faced with hunters on the ground. Their dragons’ armour took the brunt of the arrows, and Stormfly replied in kind with her spikes. The battle was engaged; they held the hunters off whilst Meatlug and Stormfly freed each roused and squalling captive. 

Eret yelled at his men, “get down there! Defend the cargo!” Damn these insufferable dragon riders; didn’t they have anything better to do than make his life difficult?! 

He  _ had  _ to bring down that Skrill though, or better yet, the Night Fury. Eret thought they’d all but gone extinct. If he delivered  _ that _ dragon to Bludvist, he and his crew would be in good graces for - oh, at least a year! So whilst his crew went down to fend off those thieves (he wondered why the masked freak on the Stormcutter hadn’t shown up yet), Eret climbed up to the top of the fort, to the last remaining ballista. 

It was designed to be launched by one person. He took aim, not at the circling dragon, but at where it would be when it dived to fire. Squinting his eyes against a sudden fireball, Eret pulled the trigger - he heard rather than saw the bolas go whistling through the air, and then came a shriek as it hit true, followed by a splash. 

Toothless struggled to remain airborne, but the bolas had entangled his tail-fins just as he swerved, and he dropped out of the sky. At least the tide was high, so they plunged into icy water rather than be dashed against the rocks. He had enough presence of mind to gulp in a deep breath, and immediately swam for the surface. Breaking it, he and Hiccup gasped for air. Toothless paddled determinedly to shore.

A bolt of lightning struck the fort in retribution; the fire that resulted would consume it quickly. Moonlight swooped down upon them and plucked Toothless bodily from the waves, lifting him up even as their friends retreated. Hiccup was relieved to see more dragons fleeing the scene as well, though it was too dark to recognise the breeds. 

“Are you alright?!” Viggo called down to him, voice muffled behind a masked helmet. 

“We’re fine!” he shouted back, “it just caught us by surprise! Thanks for the lift!” 

Toothless entreated Moonlight to set him down, and let Hiccup cut his tail-fins free, but she refused. She had no more lightning, and he could not fire with his mouth wet. So they had to submit to being carried back to their campsite, but at least Moonlight growled at Snotlout when he tried to jeer at them for being too lazy to fly themselves. 

* * *

Once back on the ground, Hiccup unhooked himself from the saddle and climbed off, wincing. He turned to remove the bolas, but a pained gasp made him look up at - “Astrid!” His fiancé was being helped off Stormfly, clutching her forearm, which even from over there in the dark he could see was stained with blood. Hiccup rushed over to her, ignoring her protests that she was fine, it was nothing, just a slight graze. 

Toothless grumbled indignantly, and tried to pull the bolas off himself. It was made with a chain instead of rope however, and he could not bite through. “Allow me” offered Viggo, kneeling to untangle the bolas. Ruffnut helpfully came over with a torch. “Ah, thank you. You’re lucky, you know” he remarked to the Night Fury, “if this had hit your tail-fin when it was spread out, it might have torn the membrane.” 

The black dragon's eyes widened. “Woah. You mean it would have crippled him more?” Ruffnut asked, too loud to not be noticed. Everyone looked over, and Hiccup came hurrying back. Viggo repeated his earlier words and unravelled the thin chain. 

“Oh, no. Bud, are you hurt?” Hiccup asked worriedly, checking both fins for damage. Toothless yanked his tail out of Hiccup’s grasp and smacked him around the head. 

“Why Hiccup mind?” he asked petulantly, sulking. “Help Astrid, mate still hurt.” The others winced sympathetically at that, and Hiccup cringed. He then apologised profusely, and Astrid came over to assure Toothless he had nothing to be jealous of. 

Just as Toothless relented, thunder rumbled overhead. Moonlight perked up. Viggo took off her saddle and told her “go on up. You need to absorb more lightning anyway.” Permission granted, she chirped a wordless thanks before taking off into the sky. Meanwhile, Astrid dragged Hiccup under the canopy, made him strip off his sodden leather armour and told Toothless to keep him warm or he’d catch a cold. 

* * *

The following morning, six dragons and seven riders were roused by the sunlight. Their good spirits at last night's success had remained, hard ground and stormy weather notwithstanding. “You know, even if we don’t find the King, I’m still glad we came out here and rescued all those dragons,” Fishlegs remarked happily. 

Astrid replied “Yeah, it makes the whole journey feel worth it. It’s nice to know all our training didn’t fly out the window - no pun intended - after all the months at home.” She was brushing Stormfly down as she spoke; the Nadder opined that it was really herself and the other dragons who had remembered their training, since they did all of the work. “Oh, but that’s who I was talking about, of course” Astrid claimed hastily.

Hiccup was poring over his map, brow furrowed. “There are no more islands between here and where the King of Dragons is supposed to be. I guess we could try to make it to the mainland, and head up the coast...but then we might run into the armada.” 

“Yes, let’s try to avoid flying right towards our enemies, shall we?” remarked Viggo. He rubbed his beard in thought and added, “you know, there wasn’t a chance to break the mast of the hunters ship last night. Perhaps we could commandeer it.” 

Astrid sniggered at the mental image. “What, and sail our way to the King of Dragons? Fine, but Hiccup gets to be the captain. I’ll be his first mate” she declared. 

“If you insist, but I should be the helmsman, on account of I’m the only one of us with years of sailing experience” Viggo retorted. Before they could really start planning the theft of a ship, Snotlout and Hookfang returned from their fishing to report that a small fleet of wooden ships was approaching the island, five vessels in total. Everyone wanted to go and have a look, so they saddled up in record time and went aloft. 

As far as they could tell, these weren’t hunters. There was no sign of catapults on the decks, at any rate. Hiccup peered through his spyglass at the ships. Their sails were emblazoned with a familiar scarlet clenched fist, though somebody had painted two dark brown stripes on either side as if the hand was gripping a stick - or maybe a log. 

Viggo, who had been looking through his own glass, remarked “now that’s interesting. I do believe we ought to pay them a visit, if we’re passing each other by.” He then encouraged Moonlight to fly closer to the ships. Naturally, the sight of multiple dragons approaching them caused the sailors aboard to panic and start yelling. Their captain shouted at them all and waved the Skrill down to land on the forecastle. 

Despite her reluctance, Moonlight obliged. The other dragons circled overhead. “Sir, it really  _ is  _ you” exclaimed Trygge, as Viggo dismounted and patted her reassuringly. 

“No need to call me ‘sir’ anymore, Captain Arnuldsson” he replied. “There’s no longer a chain of command between us. It is good to see you, though. How have you been?” 

“Well enough, sir - I mean, Viggo. And call me Trygge; like you said, neither of us is working for the other, right?” the former hunter turned logger pointed out. “The men and I are on our way to that island yonder; we need more timber, and there wasn’t time before winter closed in last year to cut down much” he explained when asked. 

“Be sure to leave some seeds behind, or we shall have to rename the island Trøminnifjordur (1)” Viggo remarked, chuckling. “Although I should warn you, there are others there already.” He briefly explained about Captain Eret and the trappers. 

Upon hearing that some of Bludvist’s men were there, Trygge grimaced. “Oh. Oh, no. Sir - Viggo, I’m sorry, it’s all my fault, but I didn’t know, I swear!” he insisted. When prompted to elaborate, he gulped and explained, “the men - the other hunters, some of them left. Lars went with them, your cousin, and they didn’t say where, but they”- 

“Probably went straight back to Drago, and told him all they knew” said Viggo. 

“I’m afraid so. They left without so much as a by-your-leave, but if I’d had any idea-!” 

Viggo held a hand up to forestall his apologies. “It isn’t your fault. It was...inevitable. I must thank you for telling me this; it’s the first bit of definite knowledge we’ve had in ages.” He hesitated, and then asked, “I don’t suppose….that you might be willing to take the other riders and I further north, aboard your ship? There aren’t any islands that we and our dragons could stop to rest on out there, you see” he explained. 

Trygge looked uncomfortable. He could handle being on a ship full of dragons, but he preferred it when the dragons weren’t loose. “I...I don’t think I can” he apologised. “It’s nothing personal, we just don’t want trouble. The whole point of becoming loggers was so we didn’t have to deal with dragons anymore...err, no offence” he winced. 

“None taken. Moonlight, dear, I hope you’re not bothering the crew. Let them work” Viggo chided her. She looked over from where she was sniffing at the cowering sailors inquisitively, and padded back over to him. “It is a pity, though. Perhaps you could just let us borrow one of the ships, and have the men aboard a different one?” 

After glancing up at the circling dragons, Trygge nervously replied “err, well, I would, only we need every ship to fit on the lumber and still have enough room for us all.” 

“Oh, naturally. No matter, we’ll think of something. I should be going. Hopefully we might run into each other again, hm?” said Viggo, shaking Trygge’s hand farewell. 

“Good luck” Trygge offered, saluting him. Viggo returned it, and hoisted himself back into the saddle. Moonlight rejoined the others, and they went back to the campsite. 

“I’m afraid it’s not good news,” he reported. “Trygge confirmed our fear; some of the hunters from Johann’s armada broke away, and he doesn’t know where they went, but given that men working for Drago are now here...in all likelihood, they went to him, told him everything they knew, and he’s on his way right now” he said gravely. 

The other riders shifted uneasily. All eyes turned to Hiccup, their leader, silently questioning what they were going to do now. He hesitated. Part of him still wanted to keep searching for the King of Dragons...but with no practical way of getting further north, they were at the end of the line. They didn’t even know for certain if the King existed. They knew that their allies needed to be warned and Berk needed defending. 

How best to defend it, but with the King of Dragons? If there was any chance at all...

“If Drago is definitely coming, then Berk needs to be warned, and our allies” he declared. “If you guys start heading back now, you should have enough time to tell”- 

“Woah, woah, hold on” Astrid interrupted, “why are you talking like you’re not coming with us?” she asked suspiciously. Hiccup winced. “You can’t just go off on your own!” 

He gestured to Viggo and Moonlight. “They can come with me, then. Look, I know it’s a long shot and it might just be a myth, but if there’s any chance that the King is real, and that they can help us...I have to try. I don’t want to come out here for nothing.” 

“It wasn’t for nothing! We saved those dragons last night, remember, that makes all this worth it” Astrid insisted, “and like you said, there are no more islands to land on.” 

Immediately he turned to Viggo, only for the question to die on his lips when the older man said, “I don’t want to disappoint you, but I already asked Trygge if he’d be willing to let us borrow a ship, and the answer was no. I can’t really press him into it, now that he doesn’t work for me anymore. There’s still always Eretson’s ship, of course.” 

“Don’t encourage him” Astrid snapped, exasperated. “Hiccup, babe, I know you want what’s best for Berk, and for the dragons...but maybe all of this is a sign that the mission...that it’s just not meant to be, you know?” she suggested. “It’s like you said to Minden, our home needs us more. Toothless and Moonlight are the most powerful dragons we have; what if Drago attacks, and you two aren’t there to fend him off?” 

Hiccup couldn’t deny her words. A horrible thought crossed his mind, that they had merely been humouring him all this time. “Did...did you guys come out here on this ‘wild boar chase’ because I wanted to go?” he asked before he could stop himself. 

They hastened to assure him this wasn’t so; well, for the most part. “I really wanted to see the King of Dragons!” Fishlegs insisted. “Hiccup, I really wanted it to be real, too.” 

“Yeah, and come on, when have Tuff and I ever passed up the chance to break some rules?” Ruffnut pointed out. “If it weren’t for this, I’d never have met my dream guy.” 

Snotlout was less than encouraging. “I really just came along because everyone else did, and we hate being left out. Ain’t that right, Fangster?” The Nightmare snorted. 

He didn’t need to question why Astrid had come; she was loyal to the last. Hiccup did wonder about Viggo, who surely would have mentioned sooner if he thought it was a bad idea? The older man admitted, “I thought that once you had your heart set on this venture, there’d be no persuading you to return, and that I’d better make sure you were safe out here if you insisted on going...but I also think we should go back.” 

Outnumbered, all Hiccup could do was nod and hide his disappointment. Then Viggo added “although, before we leave, I have an idea in mind about Captain Eretson.” 

* * *

Unbeknownst to the riders, or indeed anyone in the archipelago, Drago was coming ever closer. He would have arrived long before now, if not for the need to find people to keep an eye on the armada in his absence. He’d taken the Beast with him, so all of the usually obedient dragons had to be caged and muzzled to stop them from acting out. He had to take several ships to transport his new dragons, slowing him further. 

Drago would not offer Berk and their allies the chance to surrender. He would force them to. Most of them would be allowed to live, provided they bent the knee to him. One could not rule over the dead, after all. Their chiefs and heirs, however, would be put to death. Drago had other soldiers who could rule his new vassals in their place. 

He’d take great pleasure in having the Beast order their own dragons to kill them. 

* * *

To call Eret annoyed would be an understatement. Nothing was going the way it was supposed to. First a crazed bunch of Vikings riding dragons had raided their fort and stolen all their dragons. Then they’d seen the dragons flying off, all of them, wild or otherwise. To top it all off, five ships worth of loggers had turned up this morning. 

One of them even had the nerve to suggest he and his men should take up the trade as well, because it was easier than hunting dragons! What the hell did they know? 

“What do we do now?” asked Gallas, as they sailed away from the island. “Go back?” 

“To where?” Eret scoffed. “The armada? Not likely. We’ve got nowhere to go, nothing to sell, and no heads to call our own. If we don’t turn up with dragons, and soon, we”- 

“Gronckle!” Heige yelled from the crow’s nest. Sure enough, there was a brown one buzzing about overhead, with a human on its back. “Err, I mean, Gronckle rider?!” 

Eret didn’t care if the dragon had a rider or not. This was probably one of them who had attacked the fort last night, so he was in no mood to be merciful. A net was launched, but the Gronckle folded its wings and dropped out of the way, only catching itself at the last minute. Then a Monstrous Nightmare flew overhead, its rider jeering. 

“Reel in that net!” Eret ordered, even though they already were. The net was attached to a long chain, so they could haul dragons in from the water and reload it. He heard wingbeats behind him; before he could turn, claws had wrapped around his torso and bore him aloft, the deck rapidly shrinking beneath his flailing legs. “Aargh!” 

As if dangling from the claws of a Nadder wasn’t bad enough, a Zippleback flew nearer, and to Eret’s horror he saw that weird young woman who’d been with Grimborn -  _ wait a minute. _ “Yay, you caught him!” she crowed gleefully. “Can he ride with me? Can he?” She grabbed onto his nearest leg and nuzzled his thigh. Alarmed, Eret did his best to shake her off, until at last the Nadder carrying him pulled away. 

The Zippleback was replaced by a Skrill, which was no improvement, especially when he saw who was perched on its back. “ _ You _ !” Eret spat, glaring furiously at him. 

Viggo just smiled cheerfully. “Hello, Captain” he greeted with a patronising little wave. “Sorry to drop in on you unannounced - again - but we’re in need of your services.” 

Anger and disbelief made it hard to speak. “You - why should - you’re with  _ them _ ? You attacked our fort last night! Damn it, you lying bastard!” Eret yelled, kicking at him. 

“Well of course I lied, I don’t know why you sound shocked; and there’s no need for name calling. Besides, my parents were married, thank you” Viggo replied firmly. “Now as I was saying, given that you work for Drago, I suggested we bring you along to give us more information on his tactics, battle formations, and that sort of thing.” 

Eret couldn’t believe this. “You think you can beat Drago? No one can beat Drago.” 

“Most people don’t have their own dragons” a voice spoke up on his other side. Eret looked over at what could only be the Night Fury, with a young man on its back. “We won’t let him kill you, if that’s what you’re worried about” the rider said candidly. 

At last he found his voice, though “I shot you down!” was perhaps not the best thing to say. The black dragon growled at him, despite its master patting it on the head. 

“Oh, that was you? Toothless isn’t happy about that. You know, there are other things you could do besides dragon hunting. I don’t know if you met the loggers back there, but they used to be hunters too, before we convinced them to do something safer.” 

“Let me get this straight. You want me to turn traitor, and feed you information about Drago Bludvist? Give me one good reason why I should do a single thing you say!” 

Whoever was riding the Nadder - a woman - called down airily, “how about this - have you seen how high up we are?” Despite himself, Eret looked down at the ocean very  _ very  _ far below. The threat was obvious. “You don’t scare me” he declared valiantly, with more bravado than sense. Especially when the Nadder promptly dropped him. 

He plummeted, flailed, and screamed. “Alright! Okay! You win! I’ll talk!  _ Help me _ !” At last those huge claws snatched him out of the air; Eret never thought he’d be glad to be grabbed by a Nadder. With the breath knocked out of him, all he could do was hang limp whilst the riders snickered heartlessly at his predicament.  _ Crazy brats.  _

* * *

It wasn’t long before Stormfly tired of holding the prisoner, and the dragons started to bicker about who should carry him instead. Toothless roared to shut them all up. In the end, Eret was deposited onto Barf-and-Belch, much to his dismay. Ruffnut kept making attempts to crawl along Barf’s neck to reach him, only to be told off each time. 

They flew on for hours in a V formation. Now and then a dragon would dive down to the oceans’ surface and come up with a mouthful of fish. At least the twins on the Zippleback were forbidden from doing so, much to Eret’s relief. The riders though, they were  _ enjoying _ it; he could hear them laughing and cheering, even Viggo. 

Now that was the part Eret would love answers to. How did a ruthless dragon hunter like Viggo Grimborn end up as a dragon rider? Actually, perhaps that was a stupid question. He wouldn’t put it past the lying snob to have heard of Drago’s exploits and try to emulate that. These dragons were even wearing armour, for goodness sake. 

Finally, they reached an island that was mountainous and barren. A massive Boulder Class dragon came to confront them; the hefty guy on the Gronckle flew right up to it, and talked to it as if it understood him. Much to Eret’s surprise, and relief, the huge dragon - a ‘Catastrophic Quaken’, said the Fury rider - retreated, and they could land. 

As soon as he could, Eret slid off the Zippleback onto nice, solid ground. He’d all but been raised aboard ship, but ships did not go not thousands of feet above the surface of the world. Suddenly, Ruffnut plastered herself against him. She reeked of fish, but she’d latched on with surprising strength, and he struggled to prise her off. “Let go!” 

“And risk you getting away? Not a chance” she purred. “One night, that’s all I’m asking.” Eret wanted to throw up. “You won’t get a chance with Astrid. She’s a prude.” 

“And  _ taken _ ” the woman on the Nadder - Astrid, presumably - retorted as she came over and hauled Ruffnut away by her hair. “Now behave, or you’re going in the sea.” 

The riders were setting up camp; seeing them distracted, Eret began to edge away. Alas, that Nadder spotted him trying to escape and pounced, snatching him up in its beak and carrying him back into their midst. “Good girl, Stormfly” cooed Astrid, before inquiring, “Where were you planning to go? You know the Quakens are out there.” 

He scowled, unwilling to admit she was right, and noted with dismay that there were more than one of the formidable beasts. “I’d rather take my chances with those wild dragons instead of staying your prisoner. What now, then?” Eret demanded, glaring at Viggo. “It’s pretty rude to leave someone waiting to get tortured and interrogated.” 

“Your definition of ‘rude’ is concerning” retorted Viggo, “and we weren’t planning to torture you. Well, unless letting Ruffnut have her wicked way with you counts. Now, let’s start with the basics, shall we? How many ships are in Bludvist’s armada?” 

Eret sneered. “Thousands. Hundreds of thousands! You people don’t stand a chance” he declared. The Skrill narrowed its baleful yellow eyes and hissed at him. “I mean it!” 

“No, you don’t,” Viggo retorted. “The dragons can sense sincerity. They’ll know if you’re lying, Captain. Let me ask that again. How many ships are in the armada?” 

“How should I know, it’s not like I’ve counted them” - 

“ _ Approximately. _ ”

“Hey, come on” scolded Fishlegs, “would it kill you to be more polite?” 

“To him? Yes.” 

“Oh, charming” Eret snarked. “You wouldn’t know real politeness if it came up and slapped you in the face. And since when do you let your lackeys talk to you like that?” 

At that moment, Hiccup came over and revealed “actually he’s not in charge, I am. Fishlegs is right, you know” he added to Viggo, “this seems counterproductive. He doesn’t have any reason to trust us, let alone tell us the truth about Drago’s armada.” 

“He doesn’t need to trust us; the dragons should be enough of an incentive to talk.” 

Hiccup folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Okay, seeing as how you two have...  _ history,  _ you’re clearly not going to be fair about this. You can go and keep watch instead” he ordered. Eret, for his part, found it hard to believe that this skinny one legged young man could make Viggo do anything. Sure, he had a Night Fury, but Viggo had a Skrill, and the two dragons seemed pretty well evenly matched. 

To his surprise, however, Viggo merely inclined his head and replied, with only a hint of sarcasm, “as you wish, chief.” He turned and walked away, the Skrill following. 

“Sorry about him,” Hiccup said to a bemused Eret, “and err, sorry about attacking your fort...and kidnapping you” he added sheepishly. “It’s nothing personal, but we had to rescue those dragons, and we need all the information on Drago we can get.” 

The apology was unexpected and, to Eret’s jaded mind, utterly insincere. Anyone who worked with Viggo Grimborn was likely just as manipulative as him. The Night Fury butted its head against its masters arm, grunting. He patted it like a hound. “So, uh, Toothless would appreciate it if you apologised for shooting us down last night.” 

_ I can’t believe he named it ‘Toothless’.  _ “Oh, but it’s nothing  _ personal _ ” Eret retorted. “Look, staying on Bludvist’s good side is hard enough as it is, without do-gooder dragon riders coming in and stealing our quota. Tell you what. If you’ve got any more of those” - he pointed at the Fury - “round here, then how about you give one to me, to give to Drago, and when he’s in a good mood I’ll ask him not to attack your island.” 

Hiccup’s expression hardened, and Toothless growled. “Sorry to disappoint you, Captain” he said mockingly, “but he’s one of a kind, and I’d never give him or  _ any  _ dragon to that madman. I tried being nice, but if you’re going to be like that...hey, Ruffnut!” he called. She rushed over at once, grinning sinisterly. “He’s all yours.” 

With that, he strode off, ignoring Eret’s frantic apologies and pleas to get Ruffnut away from him again. Nobody else tried to help either; they’d all been eavesdropping, naturally, and were disgusted by the idea that they hand over a dragon to Bludvist. 

* * *

Viggo didn’t look round when he heard Hiccup approach. “You’ve grown tired of him too, then, I take it?” he remarked. “Not that I can blame you. The man is insufferable.”

“That’s ironic, because he obviously thinks the same thing about you,” Hiccup observed dryly. “What happened between you two?” he asked, “and tell me the truth.” 

“There isn’t much to tell. We first encountered each other years ago, on a small island in the middle of nowhere, with only a handful of wild dragons to capture, and both of us leading two rival groups of hunters. Perhaps we shared a goal and thus weren’t outright enemies, but we were never going to be on friendly terms” Viggo insisted. 

Hiccup replied “okay sure, I can see why you’d be competing, but what did you do to make him despise you like he does? Because I bet  _ you’re _ the one who started it.” 

“My dear boy, you wound me,” Viggo responded. “ _ He’s  _ the one who wouldn’t be reasonable. I said we should split the island down the middle; he could have all the dragons on the eastern side, and I’d take the ones on the western side. There was no need to quarrel, but Eret wanted to take them all for himself - or for Bludvist, rather.” 

“Right” Hiccup drawled, unimpressed with this excuse, “and I suppose if I go back and ask Eret the same thing, he’ll say that it was  _ his  _ idea to split the island, and that  _ you’re  _ the one who wanted to take all the dragons, to try and make you look bad.” 

“Oh, undoubtedly.” 

“And I know that you’re not doing the exact same thing, because…?” He trailed off pointedly. “I did say to tell me the truth. It’s not like I don’t know how you used to be.” 

Toothless and even Moonlight were giving him reproachful looks as well. “That  _ is  _ the truth, Hiccup, I swear. To keep the peace, I suggested dividing the island equally.” The hard glares continued until he finally admitted, “I  _ may  _ have implied to Ryker that without an actual visible line, there’d be nothing to stop our men from straying into their designated area, and that I’d not question which side the dragons were from.” 

“So basically, you cheated. Of course you did, I don’t know why I’m even asking.” 

“I don’t know either. Why does it matter to you if Eret and I aren’t getting along?” 

“Because kidnapping him was your idea, and getting him to talk will be hard enough without you two squabbling all the time” Hiccup retorted. “I won’t ask you to apologise, because I know you won’t anyway, but can you at least try not to antagonise him so much?” he implored Viggo, who relented and agreed. Then they heard Snotlout yelling that the food was cooked and to come get their share of it. 

* * *

At first glance on their return it appeared that the riders unwilling guest had tried to escape, despite having nowhere to go. “Where’s Eret?” asked Hiccup, concerned. A thoroughly amused Astrid gestured to Stormfly, who was crouched on the ground with her wings mantled, as if protecting a clutch, keeping Ruffnut at bay with her tail. 

“She’s decided that Eret is her new pet. How come you’re never like this with me?” Astrid inquired of her dragon, mock-offended, scratching under the Nadders’ chin. 

Stormfly purred and explained, “Astrid not-need protecting from Ruffnut. Eret need.” 

With the twin in question securely restrained by way of being seated between Barf-and-Belches heads, she finally opened her wings and stood up. Eret moved away from Stormfly as fast as he could, making Astrid indignant on her dragons behalf. “You could at least say thank you. She didn’t  _ have _ to fend Ruffnut off.” 

“Hey, just because I don’t want to be near  _ her _ , doesn’t mean I want anything to do with these beasts” Eret retorted stubbornly. Hiccup had to quickly restrain Astrid from punching him in the face. He pointed out that their food was getting cold, and the tense atmosphere faded slightly, but didn’t go away. After they’d eaten, Hiccup asked how many ships were in Drago’s army, hoping Eret would be more forthcoming now.

Eret had long since decided he would tell these people as little as he could get away with. He had no love for Drago Bludvist, but that didn’t make him a traitor. “The most I’ve ever seen at once is about sixty ships” he replied at last, “but I’m pretty sure he’s got others, in different ports all the way down the coast. He could have hundreds.” 

Hiccup nodded and then inquired “What kind of dragons does he have in his army?” 

His tone was more curious than demanding, and Eret didn’t feel quite the same loathing towards him as Viggo. “Better question is what dragons he  _ doesn’t _ have. All the common breeds you’ve got here, Thunderclaws and Snafflefangs by the dozen.” 

“So he doesn’t have any Skrills in his army? Or any Night Furies?” Hiccup pressed. 

“I don’t know about Skrills, but if anyone could do it, I’d put my money on Drago Bludvist. As for Night Furies, they’re pretty much extinct on the mainland” Eret replied, before gesturing at the black dragon. “Yours might be one of the last there is.” 

“Well, that gives us an advantage.” Still, Hiccup couldn’t help but feel disappointed. This wasn’t what he’d wanted to hear. As much as he hated the thought of Toothless’ kind being enslaved in an army, the idea that they were extinct was even worse. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Roughly translates to ‘treeless fjords’.


	5. The Trap Is Closing

Jokull Ansson, known as Ansson the Indomitable (to himself at least), was out on the ocean. His dragon, Thunder, was helping him bring in the catch. Ansson never thought he’d see the day when a Scauldron would be his companion. He’d not even realised dragons could live underwater for ages! After he’d hauled the net stuffed to the brim with fish onto his boats deck, he rewarded Thunder with a nice big tuna. 

“There’s a good boy” Ansson smiled, as Thunder happily crunched it up. The large Scauldron affectionately blew a little warm, not boiling, steam in his face. “Ugh, fish breath. You’re disgusting sometimes, you know that?” he asked. Thunder growled. “Woah! Hey, I was just kidding” Ansson said hastily, before realising that the dragon wasn’t snarling at  _ him.  _ He turned and looked out over the other side of the boat. 

In the distance he could make out several ships. Ansson recognised them as dragon hunter ships just from their pontoons, which were used to keep the vessel balanced when laden with the beasts. They were all heading for him and his home island. 

He swallowed nervously. “Chieftess Heather. I - I have to warn her!” he realised, falling over himself in his haste to turn the boat around. Thunder grabbed a rope hanging from the prow that he used to tie up and towed the ship back towards Berserker Island. “Good boy” he praised when they reached the harbour. “Wait here.” 

Leaving the Scauldron, he hurried up from the docks as fast as he could, wheezing and clutching at a stitch in his side. He was getting too old for this. On the way, he nearly crashed into Vorg, the Captain of the Berserker Guard. “Sir! Ships! Chief!” 

“What on Earth are you blabbering about, Ansson?” Vorg demanded impatiently. 

With an impatient groan, he pointed out to sea and exclaimed “there are ships!  _ Massive  _ ones, and they’re heading straight for us! You need to warn the Chieftess!” 

Everyone within earshot, including Vorg, looked out to sea. The ships were easily visible from their higher vantage point on the cliffs. “Nobody panic,” Captain Vorg announced firmly. “I’ll inform the chieftain. Somebody go and sound the horn!” 

He went to fetch Chieftess Heather, and someone else ran to blow the horn to warn of hostile ships. Ansson breathed a sigh of relief.  _ My work here is done, _ he thought. 

* * *

Heather, who had been going through some old laws in desperate need of an overhaul, was startled by the blaring of the horn. She hurried to the door, and threw it open. “Captain Vorg, what’s going on?” Heather demanded when she nearly walked into him standing there, fist raised as if to knock on the door. “Are we under attack?” 

“There are ships, chief” he informed her. “Dragon hunter ships, to be exact. Four of them coming this way,” Vorg explained, stepping aside to let her pass. Heather strode out and looked out at the ships. They were getting closer to the island every moment. 

Heather whistled for Windshear, who appeared from her stable behind the house. “Get Rockslide” she ordered, vaulting into the saddle. Windshear flew over the village and she blew her own horn to get everyone’s attention. “B-Team, in the air. Warriors, man the ballistae. Anyone who can’t fight should take shelter in the caves, just in case. Everyone else, get a bucket chain from the wells ready to douse fires.” 

The rest of the B-Team - short for Berserker, of course - joined her in the air. They flew out towards the approaching ships, each of which had two metal domes affixed to the deck. Along with the usual mounted crossbows and net launchers were strange and hideous contraptions covered in spikes. It was unclear what purpose these had. For now there was no sign of dragons, armoured or otherwise. Heather signalled her fellow riders to hold back until the invading ships made the first move. 

They circled to stay out of range, but it was frustrating to watch the ships move ever closer to their island and not act. Heather was on the verge of throwing caution to the wind and ordering a direct attack on the ships, when at last they began to turn port or starboard, forming a broadside row. Then one metal dome on each deck opened up. 

Even from her vantage point, Heather could see dragons trapped within the domes. Undoubtedly they were meant as bait. Nevertheless, she couldn’t in good conscience leave them imprisoned. “Gronckle riders, aim for the ballistas! We’ll cover you!” she called. Windshear roared the same orders in Dragonese. They all headed for the nearest vessel, but before they were even in range, the dreadful  _ screeching _ began. 

A mind-numbing, skin-crawling, knives-on-slate wailing issued from those spiked monstrosities, as hunters turned the massive gears to scrape the points against metal plates. The dragons recoiled or faltered, the dreadful noise disorienting them. Only their riders frantically urging them to fly kept them from being brought down. 

The B-Team regrouped at a safer height, their ears ringing. Heather could barely hear herself think, let alone speak. She managed to convey to the others that they had to block their dragons’ ears and concentrate their firepower on the screechers. As soon as Windshear and the others were ready, she and Heather led another strafing run. 

This time however, they had barely started attacking the ships when more dragons were freed from the other domes and flew towards them, all fangs and burning fire. 

At first glance, Heather mistook these dragons for some kind of Nadder and Razorwhip crossbreed. Then she realised they were Nadders clad in armour, but it didn’t seem to slow them in the least. They charged aggressively at the B-Team, harrying the Gronckles in particular. Suddenly the sky was filled with a hailstorm of spikes and blinding flashes of white hot fire. The attack was quickly abandoned. 

Windshear flung her own spikes at their attackers, silvery barbs impaling the Nadders legs. One of them shrieked and lunged at her, talons outstretched to snatch Heather out of the saddle. She twisted away and the Nadder gave chase. Heather realised the dragons weren’t blindly lashing out at them, but instead herding the B-Team closer to the ships, and keeping them from destroying the ballistas. “Go back, girl” she urged Windshear, flattened against her dragon’s neck. The Razorwhip braked hard to confuse her pursuer and shot back the way she had come, to the others. 

Heather pulled her horn off her belt, and blew it loudly.  _ Retreat  _ the signal meant, but the armoured Nadders continued to drive them towards the ships. Dragon root arrows were fired en masse and nets on chains were launched. One of them came alarmingly close to engulfing Vorg and Shattermaster, but then the ship was jolted. 

It tilted forwards, sending men and supplies alike skidding across the deck. A horn was blown, summoning the armoured Nadders back towards the vessels. The B-Team seized their chance to escape, but Heather was confused. What happened to the ship? Now another one was tilting, sinking even, and the hunters were firing down into the water. The other two ships were moving to keep their fellows afloat. 

“Chieftess!” called Vorg, “down there!” He was pointing at a fishing boat heading towards the much larger ships. Their dragons dived down to investigate it. Only one man was aboard - Ansson. “What do you think you’re doing!” Vorg shouted at him. 

Ansson looked up at the hovering dragons and yelled back, “It’s Thunder! I tried to stop him, but he’s gone after the ships!” With that, all became clear; their resident Scauldron was sinking the hunters vessels, blasting their hulls wide open from underneath. To his alarm, a furious bellow rang out across the water. “ _ Thunder _ !” 

They looked back - even from this distance, the blue-green bulk of a Scauldron was clearly visible against the dark wood of the ships. The hunters must have netted Thunder somehow; he was reared out of the water and thrashing, shrieking angrily. Already, Windshear and the other dragons were hurrying back towards the ships, unwilling to leave one of their own - even a curmudgeonly sea dragon - behind. 

Yet before they could even get close, Thunder suddenly went limp. The ship that had captured him strained against his weight, but stayed afloat; both that he’d struck were being kept from capsizing entirely. It was apparent that if the B-Team tried to save him and the other captive dragons, those aggressive Nadders would be set on them. 

For just a moment Heather struggled with her decision; but this was what it meant to be chief. She blew her horn again, and yelled out “Retreat! Back to Berserker Island!” 

Despite their reluctance, the dragons heeded her warnings and their riders signals. Windshear flew back to Ansson’s boat; he was still arguing with Vorg. “Ansson, I’m sorry” Heather called down to him. “We’ll rescue Thunder, but we need to fall back. Throw a rope up, we’ll tow you back to harbour. That’s not a request, by the way.” 

The old fisherman scowled, but obeyed nonetheless. Thunder had at least brought them a little time; those ships would need to be repaired before they could go anywhere. Heather wished she could warn Berk, yet there was no way she could leave her tribe at a time like this.  _ Stay safe guys  _ she thought.  _ The war is here now.  _

* * *

At that moment, Fishlegs and the other riders were returning to Dragons Edge. Eret clambered stiffly down off the Zippleback. No sooner had he done so than Ruffnut latched onto him, and Eret struggled to prise her off. She clung to his arm with all the determination of a limpet, and asked “Should I lock up the prisoner in the stables?” 

“Yes” replied Viggo, at the same time as Hiccup answered “No.” There was a pause. 

Hiccup explained “I don’t see the point in locking him up. It’s not like he’ll get very far. The only way off this island is on dragonback, and we know he won’t try to ride one.” 

“I might!” Eret snapped, indignant to be talked about as if he wasn’t standing there. 

The riders gave him a flat look. “Okay, go on then,” Astrid prompted. “You can take Stormfly. She won’t mind, will you girl? Hiccup and I will even give you a head start.” 

All of them looked at him expectantly; the Nadder even padded over and crouched down so he could climb onto its back. For one wild moment, Eret was actually tempted to do so, if not for knowing they would chase him down easily. Well, that, and the fact that even if he had wanted to commandeer the dragon, he couldn’t with this weirdo hanging off him. Before he knew it, Eret had told them, “just lock me up.” 

The amused, expectant looks turned to confusion and scepticism. “I don’t even care anymore. Lock me up, and please, please make sure that  _ she  _ can’t get to me” he begged Hiccup, gesturing with his free hand at Ruffnut, who was admiring his biceps. 

“If you insist” the young man shrugged. “Ruffnut, let go of Eret,  _ now _ ” he added more sternly, glaring at her when she tried to protest. Reluctantly she loosened her death grip. Astrid and Snotlout escorted Eret to the stables, and locked him in an empty stall. Snotlout walked straight out, but Astrid paused to say they’d bring some food. 

Once Eret was out of earshot, Viggo remarked “we ought to have locked him up anyway; even if he can’t get off the island, there are plenty of places for him to hide. Keeping him contained means we don’t have to keep an eye on him all the time.” 

“We’re still going to need a guard on the door. Not to keep him in; to keep  _ her  _ out.” 

He meant Ruffnut, of course. Viggo chuckled. “No, you don’t. You just need to kill two birds with one stone” he pointed out. Hiccup blinked, and then realisation dawned. 

“Hey, Ruff, c’mere! I have a job for you” he said when she walked over to them. “I need you to keep an eye on Eret and make sure he doesn’t escape. But!” Hiccup added hastily, before she could run off. “There’s a catch. I don’t want him to know you’re watching him, so you can’t talk to him, or let him see you, or anything, okay?” 

Ruffnut looked disgruntled. “Why can’t he know that I’m watching him?” she asked. 

“Because if he knows there’s a guard, he won’t try to escape until we let our guards down, and then he will try to escape” explained Viggo, “but if he doesn’t know, then he will let  _ his _ guard down instead. Just think of this as part of your stealth training.” 

She straightened up and attempted a salute. “Don’t worry, I got this. Can I have some lunch first? I’m starving.” They were all hungry; Fishlegs was already making lunch. It wasn’t impressive - their supplies were pretty bland - but it was filling, at least. Astrid took a portion to Eret in his makeshift prison, waving off Ruffnut’s offers to do so. 

“Thanks” he muttered, when she handed him the tankard and plate of food. “So, this is where you keep your dragons, is it?” Eret nodded to the rest of the stables. “Bit daft to build it out of wood, or do you muzzle them in the cages to make them shut up?” 

It took a lot of self control for Astrid not to punch him. “Pot, meet kettle. You don’t know a thing about us, Eret son of Eret. So don’t act as if you do” she retorted coldly.  


* * *

Meanwhile, Hiccup and Viggo were discussing battle tactics, based on what Eret had told them. He’d not been very forthcoming about Drago’s tactics, insisting that “Bludvist doesn’t need stuff like  _ tactics.  _ He shows up with his dragon army, orders you to surrender, and then destroys everything if you don’t. It’s as simple as that!” 

He had told them about the sort of dragons Bludvist used, however, and Viggo was also familiar with such species. “Assuming that he uses some kind of brute force approach - which seems likely, given what he did to the Hall of chieftains - I suggest we focus on breaking apart his dragon army, and funnelling a few at a time into a trap” Viggo explained, moving around a few of the Maces and Talons game pieces. 

“If he besieges Berk, we can place net ballistas between the two peaks and lure dragons through the gap” suggested Hiccup. “And use diversions if we need to break away to get more supplies. We won’t have enough salted fish for all our dragons.” 

Viggo nodded approvingly. “That’s assuming he does come to Berk. He probably will, if he thinks his victory is assured; but he might also find a defensible position and let us come to him. So we won’t necessarily have the advantage of fighting on home ground, as it were. The question is, where else could his armada go, if not Berk?” 

They studied the map. “Dragon Island is the most defensible location close to Berk” Hiccup noted, “but if Drago has any sense, he’d scatter them across several islands; that way even if we defeat one group, another one will be sent as a replacement.” 

“Very true, and we mustn’t forget he has inside knowledge, too,” Viggo said grimly. 

Hiccup sighed. “That’s the worst part. They’re going to try and capture every dragon they can from the surrounding islands, but Berk and our allies will be spread too thin to rescue any of them.” He hesitated, and asked “Did we do the right thing, coming back? I know everyone needs to be warned, but maybe we  _ should _ have just nicked Eret’s boat and gone off to find the King of Dragons. That’s a pretty big advantage.” 

With a sympathetic look, Viggo said “Hiccup, m’boy, it’s no good dwelling on what-ifs after the event has passed. Believe me, I know. I spent days after Sigrid died, and Alvis, thinking about what-ifs and might-have-beens. It’s enough to drive you mad.” 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. But you’ve gotta admit, having the King of Dragons on our side would be pretty useful” Hiccup countered. Viggo conceded the point with a grin. “That reminds me, I just thought of a way we can deal with Drago,” he remarked. 

“Oh?” 

“We wait until he’s on the deck of his ship, and his men aren’t surrounding him….then Skullcrusher swoops down and snatches him” declared Hiccup, reaching out to grab the Marauding Chieftain piece they were using as a Drago stand-in. “Then we hold Drago hostage until the army surrenders” he finished, tossing it between his hands. 

Raising an eyebrow, Viggo replied “it’s an amusing notion, but it isn’t going to work.” 

“Why not? We capture Drago, force him and the army to surrender, everyone leaves.” 

“It won’t work because you’re basing it on assumptions. Either that Bludvist would be willing to surrender, or that his men would on his behalf. Trust me, if Eret is any clue, they’ll have no love for their master, only for what he’s promised them, or fear of him.” 

Hiccup put the piece back down. “You can’t blame me for trying,” he said stubbornly. 

“I don’t. Of course a quick end to the war would be tempting; but I’m afraid we’re in for the long haul with this. I assume we’ll be heading off again, once Snotlout and Fishlegs return from passing on our warning to the Wingmaidens?” Viggo surmised. 

“That’s right. You know, we’re getting off topic, we should probably get back to work.” 

* * *

When Snotlout and Fishlegs came back, the former went straight to Hiccup. “Okay, so I have some good news, and some bad news” he reported, grimacing a bit. “The good news is that we told Atali about Drago, and she agreed to warn Mala and the Defenders. The bad news is that Minden said she gave that scroll you left to Dagur, but then he gave it to Heather to take to the chief, and he’s probably seen it already.” 

“Which means he’s probably heading this way as we speak” Hiccup finished. “We’ll just have to meet him halfway...and hope he’s not in too much of a bad mood.” His grim expression made it clear how likely Hiccup thought that was. “Hookfang and Meatlug can rest for a bit, and catch up; the rest of us need to move out” he ordered. 

Despite just returning from a long flight, Hookfang and Meatlug still had enough stamina to continue on towards Amber Island. They retrieved Eret from the stables and loaded him back onto Barf-and-Belch. He seemed surprised to be given a spare harness to clip onto a belt curved around the base of Barf’s neck. The riders mounted up, and their dragons headed south. They paced themselves; it was a long flight. As predicted, they hadn’t even reached halfway when another dragon-rider pair were spotted approaching. “Yeah, it’s my dad, alright” said Hiccup, using his spyglass. “He looks angry, but that’s nothing new,” he quipped. There was a small island, not worth naming, between them and Stoick. The dragons flew down to it, landed and waited. 

Stoick was indeed furious when he caught up. “Of all the reckless, irresponsible-!” 

“We were trying to find a way to stop the war, how is that irresponsible?!” Hiccup shot back. He’d never been willing to be lectured without making some kind of retort. 

“Because war is what Drago wants!” Stoick glared. “So where  _ is _ the King of Dragons, seeing as how you disobeyed orders to look for the damned thing?” he demanded. 

“It...we...we couldn’t get any further” Hiccup was forced to admit. “We turned back. It wasn’t a waste of time, though. We rescued dragons from some of Bludvist’s trappers, captured their leader, and found out that Drago _is_ coming. He’s probably been heading for the archipelago since last winter” Hiccup explained. Stoick’s frown deepened. “Ah, yeah, I probably should have led with that last bit, shouldn’t I?” 

Only now did Stoick notice Captain Eret. “You took a prisoner?” he asked sharply. 

“His name’s Eret Eretson, and err, I prefer to think of him as a reluctant informant.” 

Viggo stepped forwards and acknowledged, “Captain Eretson’s capture was my idea, chief. Now I know what you’re thinking, but in my defence” - Stoick held up a hand. 

“I don’t want to hear it. I trusted you -  _ all _ of you” he declared, his tone no longer angry, but merely disappointed. That was worse, almost; at least indignation could be met with the same. “Seeing as how taking a prisoner and giving us another mouth to feed was  _ your _ idea” Stoick told Viggo, “you’re going to be responsible for him, got it?” 

Hiccup tried to protest. “Dad, that’s uh, that’s not a good idea. They don’t get on well.” 

His father didn’t care. “Tough. Come on, get back in the saddle. We’re going home, and if it weren’t for this war and dragon army, I’d ground the lot of you for a month.” 

* * *

Alvin stood on the top of the sea stack, watching Outcasts sparring. It was really more like brawling. There were no dragons to fight, and no enemies to fight - or raid - which meant the only thing left was to fight each other. It would be boring otherwise. 

This wasn’t like their usual brawling however; they were on dragonback. They finally had dragons - had finally been  _ allowed  _ more dragons. Even after he’d made peace with Berk, Stoick hadn’t wanted the Outcasts to learn the secret to dragon training. Something about not trusting them, that they’d go off and use the dragons to raid people. What a stupid thing to say; they were Vikings, raiding was part of the job! 

The Hooligans had just gone soft. It wasn’t fair. So what if he’d kidnapped Stoick’s runt - heir - a couple of times, and tried to destroy or conquer Berk? Dagur had done the same things, if not worse, and now Berk was allied with the Berserkers again too, and  _ they  _ got dragons. Alvin’s tribe wouldn’t have any at all if it weren’t for Hiccup. 

His own dragon was off...somewhere. Getting fish, probably. Alvin had rejected the common breeds, insisting on having “a dragon like Stoick’s, but  _ better. _ ” Finally he’d gotten hold of a Titan-Wing Thunderdrum, bigger than the other chieftains' beast, with deep sea-green scales and crimson markings. He’d named it Bloodtide. Even better, Stoick had given up his dragon, so Alvin was the only person riding a Thunderdrum. 

Then Berk chief just had to go and one-up him by going off and getting a one of a kind  _ Rumblehorn  _ after that, of course. Not that Alvin was bitter about said fact. No sir. 

According to Stoick, a cruel and merciless warlord known as Drago Bludvist might be on his way to conquer the archipelago. This man sounded like Alvin’s kind of person. Still, he could understand not wanting to let someone else rule over them. Stoick had allowed them to train more riders in exchange for help fighting against Drago’s army. 

Bloodtide returned to him just as the dragons gave up on fighting for the day. When they landed on the sea stacks, many of their riders clambered off and vomited. Alvin rolled his eyes.  _ Wimps.  _ One of the dragons, a Nightmare, looked further out to sea and flamed up. His rider leapt back and nearly fell off the edge of the spire of rock. 

Alvin saw a large ship between them and the horizon, moving unusually fast given its size. “Well now, what do we have ‘ere?” he wondered aloud, climbing into Bloodtide’s saddle. “Right! The lot of you, back in the air! We’ve got company!” he yelled at his men. They groaned, but he ignored them all. He’d become quite adept at doing that. 

They flew to catch up with the ship. It really was a monster of a vessel, six times the size of a knarr, with metal plating. It was also covered in ballistas, and there were odd metal domes bolted to the deck. The ship was so large that Alvin could see all this from a distance. Bloodtide suddenly jerked beneath him, nearly throwing him out of the saddle. All of the dragons were suddenly trying to throw them off out of nowhere. 

“Blast it, what’s the matter with ya?!” Alvin demanded, kicking his heels into the Thunderdrums sides. Below them, the massive ship slowed down, and he saw that they were clearing a space on deck for a dragon to land. “Now that’s more like it! You lot stay up here” he ordered his men, before telling Bloodtide to land on the deck. 

He did so reluctantly. Alvin dismounted and watched as a great bear of a man, with a black cloak and a lethal looking bullhook, stomped towards him. “You must be the man I keep hearing about” he remarked by way of greeting. “Drago Bludvist, innit?” 

“That’s right” the stranger replied, in a deep and gravelly voice, “and you...are Alvin.” 

That made him scowl. “Oi, now, how’d you know my name?” he demanded warily. 

Drago gave a low, mirthless chuckle. “I know a lot of things. Do you know why I’m here, Alvin, Chief of the Outcasts?” he asked, moving as if to circle him and Bloodtide. The dragon snarled. Alvin moved as well; they went around like sharks. 

“Word is that you’re here to conquer our archipelago. I can’t promise you’ll have much luck with the locals; and I say that as someone who’s tried the same thing.” 

“I have what you don’t. The secret to controlling dragons” retorted Drago. “I once thought to claim these waters years ago, but the chieftains refused to be sensible. Then some...insurgencies...occured, that I had to quash. Now, at last...I am back. I’ve heard about you, Alvin. You aren’t like other chiefs, with their stubborn pride. You know that only the strong should rule, and the weak should obey...or suffer the price.” 

This was true...and Alvin was intrigued. “What are you saying?” he questioned.

“That you should join me, and save me the trouble of destroying all that you know.” 

Alvin didn’t see how he was going to do that with just one ship, no matter how well armed it was. “Not that that isn’t a convincing argument...but what’s in it for me, I mean us, apart from our houses staying in one piece? We haven’t lived for decades on a miserable chunk of rock to go down so easily. Besides, we have powerful allies.” 

Drago scoffed. “You mean Berk. They are  _ nothing,  _ compared to me. Did they tell you the secret to commanding dragons? Or did they make pets of the beasts for you?” 

Warmongering madman or not, Alvin had to admire Bludvist’s confidence. He was like a less pathetic version of Dagur, with the bite to go with his bark. “They didn’t want us to have too many dragons, until they heard you were gonna show up. Guess they were too scared to face you without a few extra riders. They make pets, alright; Stoick’s boy keeps saying it’s all about earning the creatures trust” he explained. 

“Trust?!” Drago spat the word like poison. “ _ Trust _ is  _ weakness. _ ” He struck the deck with his bullhook, right in front of Bloodtide. The Thunderdrum recoiled, hissing. He did it again, the impact ringing through their feet. Bloodtide opened his mouth wide to bellow. Before he could, Drago thrust the weapons blade down his throat, making him gag and choke. The man pressed the handle down on his snout. “Fear is strength.” 

Eyes wide at this display, a cruel smirk soon formed on Alvin’s face. “I’m listening…” 

* * *

It was dark by the time they reached Amber Island. The exhausted dragons lay down as soon as their riders had dismounted. Immediately the riders gave their dragons the last of their water and petted them gratefully. Eret stood off to one side, feeling awkward and intimidated by the Viking chieftains bulk. Stoick hadn’t said another word the whole way back, and the rest of them hadn’t dared to speak to him either. 

Now he cleared his throat, and when they looked at him, beckoned to Hiccup. The young man set his jaw and followed the chief away from the group. Eret felt a bit of pity for him; getting chewed out by one’s father was never enjoyable. Certainly not when a cane was involved. A voice said “Hey.” Eret jumped. “Relax, it’s just me.” 

Astrid held up the water skins. “I was gonna go refill these. Can you come help?” she asked him. The chance to get away from Grimborn  _ and _ have a drink was tempting. 

Meanwhile, Stoick and Hiccup had walked out of earshot. Finally the chief stopped. “Do you have any idea, son, how worried I was when Heather gave me that note?” 

_ A lot, obviously.  _ “I left that note so you  _ wouldn’t  _ worry...as much” he replied vaguely. “Dad, we knew it might be dangerous, but we still had to try. We’re not kids anymore.” 

“ _ Exactly _ . You aren’t kids anymore. Hiccup, you are the heir to Berk’s throne. One day you’re going to be chief. I need to know that our tribe will be in good hands when I retire, but how can I, if you’re always flying off on a whim and take our best line of defence with you?” he demanded. It was rhetorical, but Hiccup cringed nonetheless. 

“I’m sorry, dad. It’s just...you keep saying ‘a chief protects his own’, and I want to, and I thought finding the King of Dragons would let me protect  _ everyone,  _ not just Berk.” 

Stoick sighed. He knew his son always meant well, even if the attempts at ‘helping’ backfired. “Ah, well...I suppose there’s no real harm done. Maybe I was being a bit hard on you all. I mean you did come to your senses and return of your own accord.” Hiccup nodded. He wouldn’t mention the fact that if they’d been  _ able _ to go further on their search for the King, he would have, even if he’d sent the others back home. 

“You’re not wrong, either” Stoick went on, putting an arm around him. “It would be useful to have the King of Dragons on our side, I’m not denying that. So I’ll make you a deal. Help me defend Berk and our people, and if the need arises, I’ll send you on an  _ official _ mission to find this mysterious dragon king, with supplies and everything.” 

“Including a ship?” Hiccup asked eagerly. His dad nodded. “Alright. It’s a deal.”

* * *

It was Gustav who spotted the ship first. He and Spitelout were on lookout duty; at last, something  _ interesting _ was happening. “Fanghook, c’mon, let’s check it out!” the teen rider cried gleefully, and his Nightmare dived before Spitelout could stop them. 

All their bravado vanished when they were close enough to see the ship properly. Fanghook recoiled at the sight of all those ballistas and traps. “Err, on second thoughts, we should probably get out of here” Gustav said hastily. He tugged on Fanghook’s horns, but instead of retreating, his dragon started acting weird. Tossing his head, dislodging Gustav’s grip, and keening as if in pain. “Whoa! What’s wrong?” 

Kingstail and Spitelout caught up with them. “Get away boy, what are ya doing?” the older man demanded. Then his Nadder began trying to buck him off too. Both riders struggled to keep their seats. “What’s the matter with you, ya big sparky lizard?” The dragons moved towards the ship, in jerky stops and starts, like they were struggling. 

“ _ Aargh _ !” Gustav screamed as Fanghook burst into flames and burnt him. He’d never done that before. “Fangster, stop! It’s  _ me.  _ It’s Gustav!” he yelled desperately, leaning over to stare into his dragons’ eyes. Fanghook’s pupils were narrow slits, but theybriefly flickered back to normal. “You’re scaring me! Fanghook, we gotta go! Now!” 

Spitelout was struggling with Kingstail, just barely hanging on. “Now you listen to me!” he shouted right in the Nadder’s ear. “You’re going to turn your scaly butt around and fly back to Berk, or so help me, you’re  _ never  _ getting another chicken leg in your life!” Much like Fanghook, Kingstails’ slit pupils briefly widened again, before narrowing once more. “Summat’s controlling ‘em!” Spitelout called. “Summat on that ship!” 

By now the dragons were low enough for the hunters to aim ballistas at them. A mesh net was launched and fell just short of entangling Kingstail’s legs. Yet instead of sinking harmlessly into the ocean, it was drawn back to the ship on a long chain. Meanwhile their dragons were sinking ever closer, dragging their riders with them. 

Gustav suddenly realised what was happening. “It’s a Death Song!” he exclaimed, plugging his fingers into Fanghook’s ears. At last the Fire-Scale’s pupils widened and stayed that way. He rumbled in confusion, and yelped when a hooked chain nearly caught at his tail. “Retreat!” yelled Gustav. They fled, and Kingstail tried to follow, only to be yanked back as another chain ensnared his foot. “Spitelout! Hold on, we’re” - 

“NO!” Spitelout shouted. “Get outta here, boyo! Warn Berk!” He just managed to get those words out before a net engulfed them and Kingstail fell out of the sky. Terrified, Gustav and Fanghook escaped amidst a hail of arrows. They flew back home as fast as they could; Gustav kept plugging his dragons’ ears until the ship was far behind. 

On the way, Gustav let his dragon lick at the burn marks on his palms. Fanghook crooned apologetically. He asked, “what  _ happened _ to you back there, Fangster?” 

His dragon shuddered. “Not-know. Heard noise, bad noise, like throbbing in head -  _ calling  _ \- had to obey - not-want, bad, stay-away - not-want hurt Gustav, but  _ calling _ .” 

“It’s okay Fanghook, it’s okay” Gustav assured him. “I was right, they must have a Death Song or something on that ship, they’re using it to lure in dragons.” He’d never been so glad to have listened to one of Hiccup’s lectures. They reached Berk, all but crash landing outside the forge. “Gobber! They’re here! They’ve got Spitelout!” 

“Woah, lad, slow down!” the old smith admonished. “Who’s got Spitelout?” he asked.

“Hunters!” Gustav snapped impatiently. “The ones the chief warned us about! They’ve got a huge ship with a Death Song, they’re using it to lure in dragons. They almost got Fanghook and they got Kingstail. It’s all my fault, we went too close, I’m sorry.” 

The villagers within earshot stared at each other in alarm. “Bludvist is coming?!” 

“Stoick and the dragon riders aren’t back yet!” 

“What are we gonna do?!” 

“Alright, keep yer hair on!” Gobber yelled out, banging his hammer-prosthetic on the anvil. “The main thing is to not panic. Gustav, how far away are the dragon hunters?” 

He replied “Err, maybe half an hour? They were coming from the south-east.” 

“Ah, that gives us plenty o’ time. Right then!” Gobber announced. “You get the rest o’ the A-Team together and plug yer dragons ears. Then get the rest o’ the dragons in their stables and shut the storm doors so they can’t get lured in by this Death Song. We just gotta hold out until Stoick gets back with Hiccup and the rest of ‘em, got it?” 

His matter of fact orders gave the Berkians something to focus on. Really, it was just because Gobber had been left as third in command (Spitelout was second, and he  _ would  _ go and get himself captured) by Stoick. They were still trying to round up all the dragons, most of whom were only half tame, when the monstrous ship arrived. 

“Shut the storm doors!” Gobber bellowed at the top of his lungs. Word passed swiftly, and the massive reinforced doors that covered the entrance to the hangars were closed. “That oughta keep the beasties from being tempted out” he muttered, peering through a spyglass at the vessel dirtying up their harbour. There was no sign of any Death Song, but eerily, the water in front of the prow was frothing with huge bubbles. 

All the dragons they still hadn’t gotten inside made a beeline towards the vessel, and the ones inside the stables began fighting to get out. The A-Team, which now had several more members, tried to herd the wild dragons back to the island. Yet their own dragons began to get lured in as well, and they were forced to retreat. The wild dragons flew right down onto the deck, quickly subdued with nets and chains. 

Then a guttural, eerily disembodied voice boomed out over the sea. “Stoick the Vast!” 

The voice issued from a device that resembled the skull of a Thunderdrum. “You  _ cannot _ win. You  _ cannot _ resist. Surrender, and your people will live. Fight, and you will all be destroyed!” It must have been Drago Bludvist talking; who else would make such a threat? There was a brief silence, as if he were awaiting a reply. “ _ Well _ ?” 

“Get sunk!” shouted Gustav - through the Thunder Ear, so his voice echoed loudly as well. “No wait! First give Spitelout and Kingstail back!  _ Then  _ get sunk!” he corrected. 

After a pause that lasted a small eternity, Drago demanded “Where is Stoick?!” 

“He’s” - Gustav’s voice was cut off with a muffled grunt, as Gobber - who thankfully hadn’t been too far away - clamped his hand over the boy’s mouth. The last thing they wanted to do was let Bludvist know that their chief wasn’t actually there on Berk. 

Except that now they had to reply with  _ something.  _ “Err...our chief is deliberating!” 

“Then he is a fool, and a coward! Face me, Stoick! Face me and kneel to me!” 

There were shouts of outraged protest from the listening Berkians. They and their chief didn’t kneel to anyone! “He doesn’t want to speak to the likes of  _ you _ , Drago!” 

Moments later, a more familiar voice replied “Would he rather speak to  _ me,  _ then?” 

Gobber couldn’t believe his ears. “Alvin?! What are - oh, you treacherous son of a” - 

“Come on Gobber, there’s no need for foul words! All that Drago wants from you is” - 

“Enough!” bellowed Drago. “If you try to resist, we will capture your dragons by force; no matter how long it takes! Surrender by dusk, Stoick - or your kinsman will  _ die _ .” 

There was no reply that they could make to that. They couldn’t even attempt to rescue Spitelout, because the moment any dragons got close to that ship, they began to get lured in. Nobody knew how long it would take Stoick to return with the other riders, or even where the other riders had gone.  _ Of all the times for that lot to go swanning off on their own  _ the old blacksmith grumbled, as he returned to his forge.

Everyone else crowded round, demanding to know what they were going to do next, how they were going to fight. “Weren’t ya paying attention? That lot has  _ something  _ that’s making our dragons go loopy. The same point stands; we need to hole up and hold out. Stoick  _ will  _ be back. Hiccup will be back, and I daresay he’ll have a plan!” 

With that, Gobber began to hand out weapons. “Has anyone seen Gustav?” he asked; some of the blades needed sharpening and he could do with an apprentice. 

Yet the A-Team’s leader was nowhere to be seen. Feeling responsible for getting Spitelout captured, and for - in his own eyes - leading Drago straight to Berk, Gustav had taken it upon himself to set things right. He and Fanghook were heading for Berserker Island; if the Outcasts had betrayed them, Chieftess Heather would help. 


	6. Backs Against The Wall

The riders left Amber Island early that morning. They never remained long; it was unsettling for their dragons to be in a place where so many of their kin had been killed. The island was just the only convenient rest stop between Berk and the Edge, since one was covered in oleander and the other was overrun by Whispering Deaths. 

It was a long flight, and they flew in V formation to conserve strength. Eret soon grew uncomfortable; he didn’t know how these people managed, spending hours in the saddle. Astrid and the one on the Monstrous Nightmare passed time by sharpening weapons. The fat guy, Fishlegs, was looking through some parchment he kept in a pouch on his belt. Hiccup, his father and Grimborn were talking with each other. 

Which only left those two weird twins. Eret looked ahead again, but to his alarm, only Tuffnut was visible. The other saddle was empty. Then suddenly Ruffnut appeared from beneath the Zippleback’s neck, having crawled upside down to Eret whilst he was distracted. “Well,  _ hello _ ” she purred, smirking. He leaned back as far as possible.

“Heh. Still playing hard to get, I see. It’s okay, I’ll wait. You wanna play I Spy?” asked Ruffnut. “I spy, with my little blue eye...the most handsome hunk this side of the archipelago.” She fluttered her eyelids at him. At least, he assumed that was what the rapid blinking was meant to be. “ _ Your _ turn. You spy with your big brown eyes…” 

_ Well, she asked for it.  _ “A crazy repressed nutcase who can’t take a bloody hint” he said harshly, glaring at her. Ruffnut pulled back, looking hurt. Despite himself, Eret felt a bit guilty.  _ Damn it.  _ “Look, I appreciate the - the compliments, but you’re not my type” he added quickly. Then, to make matters worse, his least favourite person butted in. 

“Ruffnut, if you want  _ that  _ so badly, I’d be happy to help” Grimborn remarked casually. 

“Hang on!” she snapped indignantly. “You once said I couldn’t ‘intimidate you with seduction’. And besides, you’re not  _ my  _ type. I don’t do guys with beards. No offence.” 

He rolled his eyes and retorted “I wasn’t making a proposition, actually. I just happen to know a few people who’d be willing to give you what you want...for the right price.”

It was so obvious what he was doing; getting her in his debt. Eret doubted that even someone as clearly desperate as Ruffnut would be naive enough to fall for such a ploy. Yet instead she just cheerfully replied “Why didn’t you say so? I’ll pay you back!” 

“No, don’t worry about that” Grimborn answered, “consider it a favour; in exchange for you leaving Eret alone” he added, revealing his true motives at last. Eret found it hard to believe that the man was doing this for  _ his _ benefit, but he was still grateful. 

Ruffnut sighed dramatically. “ _ Fine _ , but I’m holding you to that!” she warned, before whistling between two fingers. Barf curved his neck around, and she deftly hopped across the gap back into the saddle. These guys apparently thought nothing of leaping about thousands of feet up in the air. The Skrill and Grimborn banked away. 

The whole exchange left Eret more confused than ever, about what exactly Viggo Grimborn’s deal was. The night before, Astrid had explained that he was their enemy until early last autumn, when he was betrayed and left for dead by his fellow businessmen. According to her, Viggo had been injured saving the Skrill and Hiccup alike, and after being nursed back to health he’d been invited to join their group. 

He still found it hard to believe that Grimborn wasn’t up to something. That was just how the man worked, seeing people as game pieces. Well, Eret wasn’t playing along. 

* * *

The dragons perched on some wide sea stacks to rest. The riders got down to stretch their legs, eat snacks and relieve themselves behind their dragons wings. Yet they didn’t just see to their own needs; just like last night, Eret watched the riders pet their dragons, adjust uncomfortable saddles and playfully wrestle with them. He wasn’t stupid. They obviously cared about their dragons. He just didn’t understand  _ why.  _

“Why what?” asked Tuffnut. Eret realised he must have voiced his thoughts aloud. 

_ Might as well.  _ “Why are you guys so obsessed with dragons?” he questioned. 

Tuffnut blinked slowly, his expression blank. “Err...I dunno” he shrugged. “Hey, Hiccup! The prisoner wants to know why we’re so obsessed with dragons!” 

All the other riders looked over at that. Eret hastily clarified “what I mean is - look, I get that you don’t want to hunt them. But why not just let them go off and do...dragon things? Why go to all the inconvenience of living with giant, fire breathing reptiles?” 

Stoick was the first to reply. “Our tribe was at war with the dragons, for three hundred years. In all that time, none of us realised that the dragons were slaves to their Queen, forced to get food or risk  _ becoming  _ food” he explained gravely. “When it was over the dragons stuck around, and we let them, because if we’d tried to drive them away and started the fighting all over again, it would have been all on us. Our fault.” 

Eret found himself asking, “then why did the dragons stay? If it were me I’d leave.” 

“They stayed because even though their flock leader was awful, they were still a flock” Hiccup explained. He stroked his dragon and added, “When we defeated the Red Death, Toothless became the new Queen. They pledged allegiance to him.” 

Astrid remarked “besides, look at all the benefits! We can travel anywhere in the archipelago far faster than on a longship. I know this flight is long, but on a ship the same journey would take a  _ week.  _ Not to mention they’re good at shifting stuff.” 

“Seriously? You work for a guy with a dragon army, and you have to ask why we want to have giant, fire breathing, flying  _ battle steeds,  _ that are basically living weapons?” Snotlout asked incredulously. “You really don’t know anything about Vikings, do you?” 

Fishlegs insisted “he doesn’t speak for the rest of us. Dragons aren’t just  _ weapons _ , they’re people. When you learn to look past the scales, they’re not so different to us.” 

“Yeah!” Ruffnut agreed cheerfully. “Take Barf and Belch for instance. Everyone knows Barf is the smarter head, just like I’m the smarter twin” she declared. Nobody refuted this, but they all looked sceptical. Even her brother didn’t protest being called stupid. 

Viggo admitted “I changed my mind about dragons when I realised they  _ are _ our equals. Moonlight here didn’t have to stay, she chose to. Who am I to reject that?” 

“The point is, once you earn a dragon’s loyalty, there’s nothing they won’t do for you” declared Hiccup, “and if having that kind of loyal, trustworthy friend in your life means putting up with a bit of inconvenience, then I say it’s worth it.” Toothless nuzzled him. 

It was all giving Eret a lot to think about. Just then, Tuffnut asked “uh, is anyone else seeing the Monstrous Nightmare heading right towards us, or is it just me?” They looked where he was pointing and sure enough, one such dragon was approaching. 

Hiccup pulled out his spyglass. “It’s Sven” he said, “what’s he doing way out here?” 

Scorchblade landed clumsily on one of the sea stacks. “Chief! Thank Thor I found you. And you found them. You all need to come back to Berk” his rider insisted. 

“Sven, what happened?” Stoick asked, before adding, “Don’t tell me...it’s Drago.” 

The farmer nodded. The others were already mounting up; Eret resigned himself to getting bundled back onto the Zippleback again. On the way back, Sven explained what was going on. “He and his ships are blockading Berk. We didn’t have enough dragons to drive ‘em off; we can’t let the rest outta their stables cos there’s summat on the flagship that lures ‘em in. Gustav went off to get help from Chieftess Heather.” 

“Do you have any idea what this lure is?” Hiccup asked. 

Sven shrugged. “We thought it might’ve been a Death Song, but even when we plugged our dragons ears, they were acting strange; just not as much” he explained. 

Without thinking, Fishlegs suggested “it could be dragon root, actually. The hunters would need some to coat their arrows with, and we know that stuff lures dragons in. Well, except for Boulder Class…” he trailed off. “Oh, Thor. Me and my big mouth.” 

To his relief, Sven revealed “it can’t be dragon root, cos Hoark and Starkard ride Gronckles, and even they were having trouble. The dragons, I mean, not those two.” 

“Yeah, and if it was dragon root, why would plugging their ears make a difference?” Astrid wondered. If it  _ was _ a Death Song, she hoped it wasn’t Melody, or worse, Garff. 

“It gets worse. He has a hostage. I hate to tell you this, Snotlout, but it’s your father.” 

“ _ What?! _ ” Snotlout exploded. “Why didn’t you say that in the first place? Hurry up, Hookfang, we’ve gotta rescue my dad!” he cried urgently. Hookfang didn’t go faster. 

Before his cousin could get worked up, Hiccup admonished “the dragons have got to pace themselves; we’ll probably end up fighting when we arrive, and if they’re worn out they won’t stand a chance. We  _ will  _ get Spitelout back, I promise” he declared. 

Sven asked, “I uh, suppose you won’t want any more bad news?” 

“You told us Berk is under siege and Spitelout is a hostage. How can it get worse?” 

“Alvin’s joined with Drago.” 

Now it was Stoick’s turn to be furious. “I’ll rip out his intestines and use ‘em as a noose!” he announced rather graphically. “That’ll teach him to betray me again!” 

Viggo remarked “threats of disembowelment aside, given that we’re talking about a man who called himself ‘the Treacherous’ for over a decade I’m not sure we should be entirely surprised. I suspect Alvin is siding with whom he thinks will win the war.” 

“That makes sense, considering he’s  _ never _ been on the winning side” Hiccup quipped. Perhaps it was not the best time to joke, but his friends sniggered anyway. 

* * *

Berk was surrounded by dragon hunter ships. At the sight of them, Stoick cursed; this was exactly what he had feared would happen. Hiccup pushed down feelings of guilt. He would take responsibility for leaving in a time of crisis, but the armada finding their home was not their fault. The blame there lay with the hunters who had revealed it. 

One vessel in particular stood out; a hulking metal clad warship with that impaled Nightmare skull insignia emblazoned on the sails. Thick chains ran from the prow into the water, and a frothing mass of huge bubbles. “It must be getting towed by a sea dragon” Fishlegs realised. “Based on the diameter, I’d say Class Five...maybe Six.” 

The villagers were giving their unwelcome neighbours a wide berth. They cheered when the riders flew overhead, relieved to see their chieftain and protectors returned. 

“Aren’t you all a sight for sore eyes!” remarked Gobber, when they landed near him on the cliffs, next to the Thunder Ear. “It’s a good thing you got back now. Drago said he’d destroy Berk if you didn’t surrender by dusk, and it’s getting near to sunset” he remarked. The sky in the west was turning orange as the sun neared the horizon. 

Stoick replied grimly, “We’re not surrendering. Get everyone into the Great Hall.” His eyes were on the flagship, from which three dragons approached. “The rest of you, whatever happens next, stay on your dragons; and  _ don’t say a word _ ” he instructed. 

A trio of Rumblehorns landed on Berk. They were all harnessed to a platform, with two on either side and one at the rear. On the right stood a dragon with scales of a purple so dark it was almost black; on the left was one with a scarlet carapace; the last had a dark green hide. Yet all the attention went not to these magnificent dragons, but to the man stepping off the platform, his bullhook glinting in the sun. 

“So you’ve come crawling back. You’ve some nerve, daring to set foot on  _ my  _ island!” 

Drago gave a mirthless chuckle that sent shivers down ones’ spine. “It won’t be  _ your  _ island much longer” he replied. His cold eyes travelled from Stoick’s furious glare to Hiccup, and his scarred lips curled slightly in contempt. Hiccup could feel Toothless shivering beneath him. That cloak...black dragonskin. He pressed a hand against the back of Toothless’ neck in solidarity and comfort. Suddenly, he remembered….

_ “You don’t look like much.”  _

_ “You look like a psycho.”  _

Drago then turned his terrible gaze on Viggo. “You must be Grimborn. Your kinsman has been very useful to me” he sneered, “and yours, Stoick. Your kinsman is willing to die for this worthless tribe. Are you willing to let him? If not, then surrender to me.” 

His brother in law’s death, versus the destruction of his tribe and enslavement of their dragons. The kind of choice that, as chief, Stoick was burdened with. There was a choked off noise behind him as Snotlout made to protest but held back at the last minute. He felt sorry for the young man. “If this tribe is so worthless” he replied, insulted on his people’s behalf, “then what good is it to you?” Stoick demanded. 

The warlord scoffed. “None whatsoever; but I am merciful” he lied, before raising his voice. “Surrender, and you will be allowed to live! Resist, and you will be destroyed!” 

“You can’t defeat us that easily, Bludvist. You’re not the only one with dragons here.” 

With a furious glare, Drago growled “you have  _ no hope _ ”, before turning his back on them. As he did so, he struck the Rumblehorns on either side of him with that awful bullhook. They obediently moved to act as living shields. Then he swung the hook around his head and bellowed out an inhuman noise. Below, something responded. 

With a noise like thunder, tons of water parted as the mysterious sea dragon rose from the depths. The villagers that were watching from afar screamed in horror at the sight of a massive leviathan looming over Berk, larger even than the Red Death, with huge tusks and a mane of red-tipped spines. It was horribly scarred, its grey eyes were bloodshot, and heavy chains hung down from the manacles around its tusks. 

“Do you see, now?” demanded Drago. “I alone control the dragons, for I alone control the Alpha! And he who controls the Alpha...controls them  _ all _ .” He levelled his bullhook at their dragons, who were watching the leviathan. Toothless and the others stiffened. Their pupils turned to slits, and they flinched, shaking their heads vigorously and jerking beneath their riders. They screeched aloud in obvious pain. 

Only their carabiner straps kept the riders from being thrown off. Hiccup caught onto what was happening and threw himself forward to press his hands over Toothless’ eyes. “Block their sight!” he ordered. The other riders followed suit, except for Stoick, who couldn’t reach Skullcrushers’ eyes without dismounting. Drago had returned to her dragon-lifted platform, which was rising into the air above the leviathan’s head. 

Then Hiccup heard Toothless say “Hiccup help aim.” He guided his dragon’s head to face the leviathan, and felt the heat of the plasma blast that Toothless fired searing through his palms. “ **FIRE** !” he roared in his Queen Voice, that he rarely used. 

The dragons who could raise their heads, though they were still blinded, fired at the leviathan, distracting it long enough to break its hold on them. Enraged, it unleashed a deafening roar that shook their very bones. It breathed in. “ **FLY** !” Toothless ordered his flock in the nick of time. They all launched into the air just as the leviathan unleashed a barrage of  _ ice  _ that crashed down in spikes where they’d been standing. 

Hiccup’s heart raced. He glanced around to check everyone had gotten clear; to his relief, nobody had been entrapped and crushed by the ice. Armoured dragons were being released by the ships; too many for so few riders to fight. Drago, standing atop the leviathan’s head, struck it with his bull hook. The dragon should have barely been able to feel such a blow, yet it bellowed out a command nonetheless. “ **ATTACK!** ” 

Toothless fired a plasma blast at the hangar doors, and screamed out, “ **DEFEND** !” 

* * *

For the first time in five years, the sky above Berk swarmed with fighting dragons. Yet they were not fighting humans, but each other. Toothless’ status as Queen meant he had the loyalty of the Berk flock; even ferals who had not bonded with a human would obey him. Yet the Sea-Giant could overwhelm his command, if it were allowed to try. 

Whilst the ferals clashed with armoured dragons, or attacked the ships, Astrid and the other riders bombarded the Sea-Giant instead. He bellowed and reared to spit more ice at them, which crashed down upon the cliffs. They dodged, attacking from behind instead. The leviathan roared again, deafening, and plunged beneath the surface to escape the barrage. The dragons’ firepower was of no use underwater. 

“Scatter!” Astrid yelled at the top of her lungs, as several armoured dragons lunged at them. The riders worked to lure and corral the intruders into masses that were then blasted with Moonlight’s lightning. She did not waste power with each strike, but used their metallic armour against them. Her lightning shocked several of them at once.

It was messy and brutish - like hacking with an axe when one needed an arrow. One by one dragons fell from the air; sometimes they crash landed on the island, crushing trees and dwellings alike. Others landed on the decks, some in the ocean to drown, if they weren’t dead already. Hiccup felt sick. He wished they could  _ do something,  _ but it was taking all of Toothless’ willpower to keep their flock from obeying the Sea-Giant. 

The riding dragons fired at ballistae when they could, and lured the armoured dragons when they could not. Many of Berk’s dragons were falling as well, either captured by the armada or worse, struck by lightning. It was impossible to tell which side had the upper hand; had more of Bludvist’s forces been downed, or theirs? 

Hiccup scanned the battle as much as he could, when Toothless ran out of shots. He was thinking not of tactics, but his loved ones. There was his father, battling Alvin; in desperation he searched for Stormfly and Astrid in the melee, where were they? As soon as he spotted them, carrying an injured Gronckle to safety, he sagged in relief. 

Toothless dodged yet another attack. That Sea-Giant, and by extension the armoured dragons it commanded, seemed to have a one-track mind. They attacked blindly. On the one hand, they were relentless. On the other hand, they did not adapt to the ebb and flow of battle. Moonlight had reduced their numbers, but she too had a shot limit; and unlike all the other dragons, her power required a thunderstorm to replenish it. 

Then the worst thing happened. Moonlight and Viggo were desperately evading the dragons trying to bring them down; these ones without armour, so she couldn’t just blast them. She was running low anyway, she could feel it. Then they forced her into the crosshairs of a net ballista, which was fired. A mesh of chains engulfed them. 

Wings entangled, Moonlight dropped like a stone into the water. That alone would have neutralised her as a threat, if she had not all but run out of lightning anyway. “No!” Hiccup cried out in denial, horror, but there was nothing he could do; the battle raged on, Berk was burning, and the Hooligans were fighting Outcasts in the streets. 

At least until Drago swung his bullhook again, bellowing to summon the Sea-Giant from out of the depths. It roared, and all the armoured dragons pulled back, retreating to land on the ships once more. Berk’s dragons, exhausted, came to land on the island wherever they could find room. The battle ended as abruptly as it had began. 

Through a horn, the warlord yelled, “Last chance, Stoick! Surrender, or the hostages will be executed and your people destroyed! It’s them or the dragons. Your choice!” 

Silence followed this pronouncement, broken only by the sound of waves breaking and fire crackling. All eyes turned to Stoick, wondering if this was it, if they had truly been defeated at last. Finally, he urged Skullcrusher to approach the flagship. Hiccup tensed. If they captured his father too...but Stoick only spoke to Drago for a long time. He returned to address the other riders and warriors of Berk. “We have until dawn.” 

* * *

Berk was riddled by Whispering Death tunnels. It was into these that Toothless urged what remained of his flock; with unerring accuracy he navigated the twists and turns, emerging at last in the caves they’d converted into stables for the feral dragons. The massive hangar doors were hanging off their hinges, the wood splintered and burned. 

They could not rest yet. Stalagmites and stalactites were blasted off to pile in front of the broken exit, keeping them in and the armoured dragons out. Or so they hoped. It was soon clear they weren’t alone down there. Baby dragons from last Snoggletog had been cowering here the whole time, and had to be coaxed out of hiding. The more maternal dragons, like Stormfly and Meatlug, tended to their own and others. 

As she checked on her dragons’ wings, Astrid wondered “How come these little guys didn’t try to get out? I know they can’t fly well yet, but they could’ve been carried.”

Hiccup shrugged. “Toothless? What...what was that leviathan doing, to make you all act so...strange?” he asked. The Night Fury crooned tiredly and tried to explain. 

“Same-as Red Death, but louder. Stronger. Sound. Low-sound. Humans not-hear. Dragons hear. Low-sound hurts. Hear command in low-sound. If obey, not hurt.” 

His rider translated for those who didn’t understand Dragonese. “The leviathan makes a sound that’s too low for us to hear, but the dragons can, and it’s painful for them. They hear the same command over and over again, and try to obey just to make it stop. I guess the hatchlings aren’t affected because they can’t hear it either.” 

Toothless added “Humans help ignore. Weight on back...remind-us not to obey.” 

Stoick announced “we all need food and rest, especially the dragons. Everyone, to the Great Hall; we’ll bring fish down to the dragons that can’t fit” he ordered. They all trudged up the steps through a tunnel that led right to a back entrance of the Hall. As soon as they were all in, the rest of the villagers crowded round Stoick, demanding answers. “Everyone calm down!” their chief insisted. “This is no time for us to panic.” 

The women of the tribe had already begun cooking soup; there was bread and meat to ration. The men were angered, none more so than Snotlout. “How can we just sit around inside here when those bastards are destroying our home?!” he demanded. 

“Snotlout, you need to calm down” - Hiccup began, only to have to dodge a punch. 

“Don’t you tell me to calm down, peg leg!” his cousin yelled at him, hysterical. “You’re not the one whose dad has been captured and is going to  _ die, _ no, yours is just fine!” 

“D’you think I  _ wanted _ to retreat? There’s too many of them, we don’t stand a chance!” 

“Well then why don’t we just give up and bow down to our new overlord then?!” 

“ENOUGH!” Stoick yelled over them all. The entire room fell silent. He gestured towards the doors. “Nobody wants to drive these  _ nithingrs  _ from our island more than I do. But we can’t achieve that with exhausted dragons and empty stomachs.” To Snotlout he added, “we  _ will _ rescue the hostages, but until then you need to keep your head, not go biting off everyone else’s. That goes for all of you” he added firmly. 

Chastised, the younger Jorgenson replied “sorry, Chief.” He gave an apologetic look to Hiccup as well, who nodded in understanding. He knew exactly how his cousin felt.

* * *

“Class ten... Drago has a class ten…” Fishlegs trailed off, going pale. “Oh, Thor. He already found the King of Dragons” he declared. “If we hadn’t blocked their ears, our dragons would have been controlled and who knows what would have happened?” 

Ruffnut answered bluntly, “we do. They’d have joined Drago’s army and attacked us.” 

“No, Fishlegs” Hiccup shook his head. “That leviathan is not the King of Dragons.” 

Everyone stared at him. “Uh, it’s massive, it controls other dragons, and those spikes look like a crown” Tuffnut drawled. “Sure sounds like the King to me. It all adds up.” 

Hiccup insisted “but it  _ doesn’t  _ all add up. Think about it; Drago is using the leviathan”- 

“Sea-Giant” Fishlegs interrupted suddenly. “Toothless, he called it a Sea-Giant.” 

“....You’re right. Drago is using the Sea-Giant to command the dragons in his army, right?” Hiccup asked. The others nodded. “And we know he’s had this army for a long time, going by what my dad said. So he must have had that Sea-Giant for a while as well, and we only defeated Krogan a year ago. Why would he send someone to look for a dragon he already had?” Hiccup inquired rhetorically. That stumped them. 

Hiccup went on, “and that’s not the only thing that’s off. Even if he had found the King on his own, if they were already  _ that  _ size, how could he have enslaved them? And please don’t say he used his dragon army; he’s using the Bewilderbeast to control those other dragons, so he must be controlling  _ it _ some other way” he explained. 

Snotlout drawled, “Yeah, yeah, sure, that’s great and all, but it doesn’t really help my dad, who’s going to get  _ executed,  _ now does it? We need a plan to rescue him!” 

Tuffnut threw his arm round Snotlout’s shoulders and declared “fear not, my vertically challenged young friend. For  _ this  _ is the moment Ruffnut and I have been training our whole lives for. We shall infiltrate the hunters vessel and retrieve Spitelout from their clutches. Viggo too, before they both get, y’know” - he made a slit throat gesture. 

Snotlout shrugged his arm off. “One, don’t joke about that. Two, I’m a year older than you. Three, don’t call me short, and four, you’ve both been doing that ‘stealth training’ for less than a year! There’s no way I’m letting you two  _ muttonheads  _ save my dad!” 

Before they could start bickering in earnest, Astrid whistled sharply. “Don’t you realise how dangerous it would be, getting aboard Drago’s ship and finding Spitelout and Viggo? We don’t even know where they’d be kept, or their dragons for that matter.” 

“ _ We  _ don’t know” agreed Hiccup, “but there’s someone who does.” He stood up and walked over to Eret, who was standing out of the way against a pillar. “Eret. Have you been on board Drago’s ship?” he asked. “Do you know where he keeps prisoners?” 

Eret frowned. “Yeah, I’ve been on it. Don’t wanna go back. Look, if Grimborn’s been captured, that’s his problem. He’s of more use to Drago alive than dead, anyway.” 

“And he’s of more use to us  _ here  _ than  _ there, _ ” Hiccup retorted. “Look, I know you don’t like him, but he’s still one of us. It’s not just him, either; Snotlout’s dad was captured” he revealed. “You’re going to help us infiltrate Drago’s ship and rescue both of them, and their dragons as well.” He spoke confidently, as if the matter was said and done. 

With a raised eyebrow, Eret demanded “and what makes you so sure I’ll do that?” 

“Either because it’s the right thing to do, and we need your help” replied Hiccup. The eyebrows only got higher. “ _ Or  _ because if you do, we’ll drop the whole ‘keeping you prisoner’ thing. Help us rescue them, and we’ll track down your ship, you can go back to your crew, sail off and pretend you never met us” he offered. “So...are you in?” 

After a moment, Eret shook his hand. “Alright, you got me. So what’s the plan?” 

The others had followed Hiccup over. He looked at the twins and declared “Ruff, Tuff, if you’ve learned anything from all that stealth training, now’s your chance to prove it.” He warned them, “remember, this is the real deal. You can’t mess around with this.” 

“We know, Hiccup. This is the most dangerous prank we’ve ever attempted, sister.” 

“Indeed, brother. We shall have to make... _ sacrifices _ ” Ruffnut announced darkly. 

_ I really hope I don’t regret this.  _ Hiccup went on, “Astrid, Fishlegs and I will take Eret and the twins to the top of one of the sails. Then you climb down to the deck, and when you’ve found them, the rest of us will cause a distraction so you can escape.” 

Snotlout protested “woah, woah, hold up. There’s no way I’m staying behind whilst the  _ twins  _ rescue my dad. Don’t try to talk me out of it, Hiccup” he warned, when his cousin tried to speak. “You wouldn’t stay behind if it was your dad, and neither will I.” 

He couldn’t deny this, so Hiccup merely gave a solemn nod. “It’s settled, then. Eret, Snotlout and the twins will free the prisoners. Astrid, Fishlegs and me will cover you.” Once they’d hashed out the details, and come up with a few back-up plans, they approached the chief and told Stoick that they were going to rescue the hostages. 

_ The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.  _ These were the words his father lived by, and Hiccup was prepared to be told that the mission would be too dangerous. He was prepared to ignore his dad and do it anyway. To his surprise, Stoick put hands on his shoulders and said gratefully, “I’m glad one of us has a plan.” 

It was only then did Hiccup realise how weary Stoick appeared. How aged. They were standing so close he could count the grey hairs in his dad’s beard. Before he could say anything, Stoick addressed the entire Hall. “Everyone! Can I have your attention?” he called. Gradually they all fell silent. “Drago Bludvist gave an ultimatum. To sacrifice our dragons and be spared, or perish and have them taken anyway.” 

“Now I don’t know about the rest of you” he went on, “but given everything they’ve done for us, I’d no sooner hand our scaly friends over to that madman, than I’d offer my throne to Alvin the Treacherous. Yet I’m afraid that Drago has left us no choice, friends, but to make another sacrifice in the dragons’ place. We must evacuate Berk.” 

Predictably, there were cries of protest all round. “Quiet! This isn’t a decision I make lightly, have no doubt of that. The council and I have agreed that if our tribe  _ and  _ our dragons are to be saved, our best chance is to leave Berk and go to Dragon’s Edge. It’s just as defensible as Berk if not more so, it’s closer to our more distant allies, and there’s room for the Berserkers to come as well, if they so wish” Stoick explained. 

He continued, “our people have lived and died on this island for centuries, and it breaks my heart to abandon it...which is why we  _ will come back.  _ One day, when this war is over, we or our descendants will return to Berk, rebuild and carry on. We are and always will be the Hooligan Tribe of Berk, no matter where we make our stand.” 

It was an inspiring speech, although Hiccup suspected that if anyone but his father was suggesting they left Berk for their own good, there’d be an uproar. “But chief” protested Ack, “what good will it do us when Drago has that monster dragon to summon as many of ‘em as he wants and turn ‘em on us? To turn our  _ own _ on us?” 

“Actually, it’s called a Sea-Giant” replied Hiccup, “and as for what good evacuating will do, it gives us time to find a way to stop the big guy, and thus defeat Drago.” 

There was a lot of sceptical muttering. “And how exactly are we gonna stop it, lad?” Ack questioned. “I don’t think even  _ you  _ could train a dragon like that, no offence.” 

Hiccup grinned. “No offence - and no, I’m not going to train Drago’s Sea-Giant. I’m going to find us another one” he announced. “There’s no time to explain, and I can’t prove there’s a second one out there, but we have a lead and it’s the best - the only - chance we have. I say we take the risk, because if  _ we  _ don’t stop Drago, who will?” 

Nobody replied, but their expressions were resolute. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up at his dad, who wore a proud smile. “You heard him” Stoick declared, “there’s still hope! We’ll plug our dragons’ ears against that leviathans’ call and load them up with supplies, then sneak away whilst it’s still dark. If Drago wants Berk so badly, he can have it. We’ll return for what’s rightfully ours when he’s dead and gone!” 

This time a great cheer rose up, that echoed in the rafters. Unbeknownst to them, the Outcasts were standing guard outside the Hall doors and listening in. A cruel smile appeared on Alvin’s face. “If I know Stoick, and I do, all that cheering means they think they’ve found a way out of this little conundrum. I’d better go tell our new boss.” 

* * *

Getting captured hadn’t been part of Viggo’s plans. Then again, neither had fighting off an invasion. Several hunters dragged him out of the saddle, disarmed him and forced him to his knees in front of Drago Bludvist, who glared down at him with a contemptuous scowl. “Seeing as how I’m still alive, I assume you’re going to hold me hostage” he remarked, undeterred. “There are worse victims of that, I suppose.” 

“I wanted the boy,” Drago admitted after a moment, “but you’ll do. Now do you realise, what  _ fools  _ you all were to oppose me?!” he demanded. Viggo didn’t get a chance to reply, even if he’d wanted to. Drago turned away and swung the bull-hook over his head, bellowing. That leviathan of his emerged from the depths again.

Once he had its attention, Drago ordered “call them off!” He slammed the weapon down on the deck so hard it vibrated. The Bewilderbeast rumbled, the pupils in its bloodshot eyes narrowing as it commanded the armoured dragons to retreat. Viggo had no idea why the warlord ended the battle, but it couldn’t be for a good reason. 

It wasn’t. Bludvist shouted through a horn that magnified his already loud voice tenfold. “Last chance, Stoick! Surrender, or the hostages will be executed and your people destroyed! It’s them or the dragons. Your choice!” For a long moment there was silence. Then Stoick flew down and landed on the deck to give his answer. 

Viggo expected him to surrender, as regrettable as such a thing would be, for the sake of saving his tribe. It would spare the dragons too; Drago obviously wanted them alive. Instead, the first words out of Stoick’s mouth were...“we need time.” 

Eyes narrowed in a scowl, Bludvist retorted angrily, “You’ve had  _ plenty  _ of time!” 

“Not time to  _ choose _ . You’re right, Drago - we can’t defeat you” Stoick admitted. “If your victory is assured, what’s the harm in giving us time to come to terms with it?” 

To call Viggo surprised would be an understatement. The chief had been so against trying to reason with such a madman, and now here he was doing it - by appealing to Bludvists’ ego, no less - to try and get them a reprieve. More amazing still was the fact that Bludvist actually seemed to be considering it.  _ Interesting choice of move.  _

“So be it, then! You have until sunrise to mourn, but if your tribe does not kneel to me at dawn, with your dragons in chains, then all of you will perish. Get out of my sight!” 

Wordlessly, without so much as a glance in Viggo’s direction, Stoick retreated. Soon the other Berkian dragons began to follow suit. The hunters flanking Viggo dragged him to his feet and frogmarched him down through the hatch into the bowels of the ship. However, he still caught a glimpse of one of the domed traps being closed up. 

There was nothing Viggo could do to help Berk, unfortunately, so he pushed any anxiety to the back of his mind. He didn’t resist when they cuffed him and led him down to the hold, which was filled with dragons. The poor creatures were crammed in two or three to a cage, all muzzled. Some snarled, but most of them were listless. 

He was escorted right to the far end. In the left hand cell was only one occupant, and not a dragon. “Well, it’s about bloody time!” complained Spitelout. “I’m starv- Viggo?” 

“Hello, Spitelout” he greeted his new cell mate candidly. The hunters opened the door and led him inside, then manacled him by his ankle. “You could do with improving your guest accommodations,” Viggo remarked. They ignored him and left, locking the door behind them. He shrugged and crouched down to investigate the ankle chain. 

Spitelout looked bored. “Please tell me this isn’t a rescue attempt” he deadpanned. 

“I’m afraid not.” 

“Oh, good, because in that case it would be a terrible one. So how come you’re down here? Did your dragon lose her marbles and fly right into a trap too?” he demanded. 

Viggo retorted “no, and neither did yours. Kingstail was lured in by a Bewilderbeast. As for me...Berk was under attack tonight. Moonlight and I were brought down just as she ran out of lightning. Drago gave them an ultimatum; surrender and hand over the dragons, or be wiped out. Stoick managed to convince him to give them until dawn.” 

“Right, so we have until then before we need to worry about dying. Is my son alive?” 

_ I don’t know.  _ That was the most honest answer. The battle had been chaos incarnate, and Viggo hadn’t been able to keep track of the other riders much. However, in this case, honesty  _ wasn’t  _ the best policy. “Yes” he replied. Spitelout looked relieved. “Haven’t they brought any food to you, yet?” he asked, recalling the man’s complaint. 

With a shrug, Spitelout replied, “Whenever they remember I’m down here...wait, shh! Someone’s coming.” When the person appeared, they didn’t have any food, but the sight of them made Viggo leap to his feet and glare furiously with his one good eye. 

“Look how the mighty have fallen” Lars smirked, his fingers curled around the bars. “What’s the matter, cousin? Surprised to see me?” he asked mockingly, sneering. 

Viggo smoothed his angered expression. “Hardly. Your new employer wasn’t exactly subtle about who had led him here; though I admit, I wouldn’t have guessed you’d be here beforehand. One doesn’t expect much from a coward, after all” he said acidly. 

Lars’ face twisted into a scowl. “At least I’m not a traitor,” he spat, “unlike  _ you. _ ” 

Eyes narrowed, Viggo demanded “and whom, pray tell, have I supposedly betrayed?” 

“If you have to ask, then you’re not as smart as you think. You betrayed your  _ family.  _ Your own people!” Lars seethed. “First you get your brother killed, then you allow those two outsiders to command and kill your men, and  _ then,  _ you go and join the side of our enemies, just so you could play mentor with that crippled dragon-loving brat!” 

Fists clenched and jaw set, Viggo glared at his...no. Lars was no family of his. “If we are enemies now, then so be it. You’ve made your choice, and I’ve made mine.” 

“At least I made the right choice” Lars sneered, “to join the winning side! You can’t win this game, Viggo, and if I were you, I wouldn’t be expecting to get rescued.” With that, Lars strode away. Only when the clumping footsteps had faded did Viggo let out a pent-up sigh, and drag a hand over his face. Then he leaned back against the wall. 

“Blimey” muttered Spitelout. “You don’t have much luck with family stuff, do you?” 

Sigrid, Alvis, Ragnvald, Ryker and now Lars. “No,” Viggo agreed quietly. “No, I don’t.” 


	7. Escaping

Viggo had no intention of sitting in a cell waiting to be executed. He crouched with his back to the door, and that single stone-faced guard. It was a bit tricky to get out the lockpick on his belt with his wrists manacled, but he succeeded at last, and then he began to try removing the chain around his ankle. If he could just get the angle right...

“Aah, I wouldn’t do that if I were you” remarked Spitelout. Viggo ignored him and kept trying to slot the finicky bit of metal into the lock. It would be much easier if he didn’t have to twist his arms in such an awkward way. He was jarred by Spitelout ramming him to the side and cursed as he dropped the lockpick. Viggo glared at Spitelout, who nodded at their guard, who had raised his blowpipe and aimed it through the bars. 

A feathered dart was sticking out of Spitelout’s elbow. “Told ya” he slurred, already losing consciousness. In moments his eyes were rolling back in his head and he slumped forwards, almost on top of Viggo if the other man didn’t push him off. Viggo carefully plucked the dart out of his skin and examined it out of morbid curiosity. 

When he glanced up, the guard was preparing to dart him as well. “Really, now” he complained, “is that any way to treat your guests? I’m not even doing anything.” 

The guard did not reply, nor lower the blowpipe - but he didn’t use it either. “So that’s how it is; you suspect we’re trying to escape, and render us unconscious before that can occur. I’m almost impressed. This explains why Lars was so confident I wouldn’t be able to escape; I suppose he must have warned you all of my propensity for it.”

Still no response. “Come now, the least you can do is reply, seeing as how you’ve just knocked out my only other conversation partner,” complained Viggo. He regretted it a moment later when the guard opened his mouth, only to reveal his tongue had been cut out. “Ah. Oh well; I’ll just have to do the talking for both of us, won’t I?” 

With that he sat cross-legged, not facing the guard but not turning his back either. Viggo began a lecture on economics that his father had drilled into him so much he’d learned it by rote. As he droned on, inwardly he smiled at the thought of two mistakes they’d made. First, they’d manacled his right ankle. Second, he was left-handed. The dart wouldn’t be as good a lockpick, but beggars couldn’t be choosers at these times. 

* * *

“On second thoughts” Alvin mused, as a thought crossed his mind. “Let’s not mention this to Drago, eh? After all, what he doesn't know won’t hurt him - or should I say,  _ us _ .” 

The other Outcasts glanced at each other, confused. “But sir” one of them began to ask tentatively, “won’t Drago Bludvist be angry if the Hooligans get away from him?” 

“Aye, he’ll be furious. Which is why he doesn’t need to know that  _ we  _ know they’re up ta summat” replied Alvin. Judging by their expressions they still didn’t get it. “Look, I’m still your chief cos I’m the one wi’ the brains, alright? If I say it’s better we don’t tell Bludvist and just stop ‘em ourselves, then you say ‘yes chief, that’s a brilliant idea’.” 

They squirmed. Another one asked, “so, uh, chief...how  _ do  _ we stop the Hooligans?” 

Alvin thought about it, stroking his beard, until finally he said “if they try to get out it’ll probably be through them Whispering Death tunnels. So we’re gonna stakeout every exit we can find, and when they come out,  _ then  _ we raise the alarm. You got all that?” 

“Yes chief, that’s a brilliant idea.” 

“I have a lot of those,” Alvin declared. “No one appreciates me. Well, what are you sacks of rot waiting for? Get moving!” he snapped at them, and they all rushed off. 

* * *

In the tunnels and caverns beneath their island, the people of Berk hurried to and fro. They plugged their dragons’ ears with candle wax. Sacks of grain and dried meat or fish were loaded onto riderless dragons, along with barrels of mead. The sheep and cows had to be blindfolded and tied aboard as well; the chickens were put in crates. 

Alvin knew about the Whispering Death tunnels...but Hiccup knew that he knew, and besides, the Outcasts didn’t know about  _ all  _ of the tunnels. The first ones, in fact; the ones made by Toothless’ nemesis. Those came out in the forest, and by now had been blocked for years by boulders - a few hungry Gronckles would take care of that. 

Meanwhile, the riders were preparing for their rescue mission. Hiccup, Astrid and Fishlegs dressed in the darkest clothes they had, borrowed from the Defenders. Eret told Snotlout to wear his bearskin over his head, to resemble one of Drago’s warriors. “Most of ‘em wear polar bear skins, but you’ll be harder to see with a black one on.”

As for the twins, they put on armour and two masked helmets...and cut off their braids or dreadlocks respectively. “We said we were gonna make sacrifices” Ruffnut pointed out, “and we can’t cram our hair under these helmets, can we? Eh, it’ll grow back.” 

The rescue team armed themselves with swords, shields, lockpicks, knives, canisters full of Zippleback gas and in Eret’s case, a crossbow. Before they set out on the mission, Hiccup and Toothless sought out his father and Skullcrusher. “Never thought I’d see the day...or night...that we’d abandon Berk” the chieftain admitted with a sigh. 

“We’re not abandoning it,” Hiccup reminded him, “we’re buying ourselves time. “Dad, listen. The others and I are going to go and get Spitelout and Viggo out of that ship. And Fishlegs is gonna head to Berserker Island, and get Gustav, Heather and everyone else to follow us to Dragon’s Edge.” He took a deep breath and said “you guys go on ahead, and if...if something goes wrong...I mean, I don’t think it will, but” - 

Stoick’s eyebrows rose. Hiccup took a deep breath and finished, “if things go wrong, don’t come back for us. We know the risk, and what matters is everyone getting out”- 

“Alive?” his dad finished. “Aye, and that’s the reason I’m not going to ‘go on ahead’. We protect our own, and that includes the lot o’ you. That other bloke, too, I suppose” Stoick added as an afterthought. “Don’t you go turning into a martyr on me now, son.” 

His concern was touching. “Okay, but if you’re not leading the flock to Amber Island, then who is?” Hiccup inquired. Toothless warbled. “What? Oh, I guess that’ll work.” 

“What did he say?” Stoick asked. The chief had learned a little Dragonese, since it was impossible not to, but he found it easier to just ask Hiccup, who was very fluent. 

“He says that he can use his Queen Voice to instruct them all where to go, and to stay together. Hopefully the command will hold until they get there. I guess you’ll have to leave Gobber in charge of everyone...that’ll be interesting” Hiccup snarked. 

Stoick chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m proud of you” he smiled, “you’re going to make a great chieftain one day. Come on now - time’s a-wastin’.” 

* * *

Out in the forest, Berk looked rather normal. Peaceful, almost. Only the smoke still rising from the village, and lights out on the harbour, gave any hint that something was amiss. One by one, dragons emerged from the tunnels and breathed in fresh air. They flew up as high as they could and then headed north, following the pole star. 

Toothless, Stormfly and Meatlug perched as carefully as they could on the yardarm of the mainmast aboard Drago’s flagship. Eret swung down from Stormfly’s back into the rigging; Snotlout and Tuffnut climbed down off Toothless; Ruffnut slid off Meatlug. After their passengers got off, the first two retreated to circle out of range of the ship’s ballistas, whilst Fishlegs and Meatlug broke away to head for Berserker Island. 

The rescuers climbed down the rigging, hand over hand. Every so often they froze when a hunter marched past on the deck below, in case their movements caught someone’s eye. Progress was frustratingly slow. At last, Eret reached the bottom of the mast. He checked the coast was clear and headed towards the nearest hatch. 

“Halt! Who goes there?” a hunter demanded in a Polish accent, shining a lantern in Eret’s face, but he was wearing a masked helmet. “State your name and purpose.” 

Blinking vigorously, Eret stammered, “Er-Erland Ericsson. I’m on guard duty.” 

The hunter’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “I don’t know any ‘Erland’...you one of ‘em Saami folks?” he asked. Relieved, Eret nodded. “Hmph. That would explain a lot.” 

_ What’s that supposed to mean?  _ he wondered, indignant. The interrogation continued. “So if you’re on ‘guard duty’, what exactly is it that you’re supposed to be guarding?” 

Quickly, Eret cast around for a believable excuse. “I’m guarding that trap,” he replied, pointing at the nearest dome, adding “In case the dragon riders try to free the dragon inside.” There was a long, uncomfortable pause as his words were considered. Eret had no idea where the others were, or if the other man was buying any of this stuff. 

Finally the hunter decided “fine then, waste your time guarding that dragon proof trap. You’d better still be on ‘guard duty’ when I get back, or else!” he warned, scowling. 

Eret stood at attention and gave a salute. His accoster climbed through the hatch, lantern in hand, and he let out a sigh of relief. Of course, then he had no choice but to take up a position near the trap and aim his crossbow at the sky. With any luck it would fool any hunters watching...and when had he started thinking about them as if he wasn’t one of them? As if he was one of those riders? Speaking of which, where - 

“Psst” a voice hissed behind him. Eret tensed, and turned around slowly, keeping his weapon aimed upwards. Ruff, Tuff and Snotlout were all hiding behind the dome. “It’s just us, dummy” she whispered. “Now stop posing and let’s get down to business!” 

_ Would if I could.  _ “You three are gonna have to keep going without me” Eret told them out of the corner of his mouth. “If that guy comes back and sees me gone, it’ll blow our cover. Look, just keep going down through the decks until you reach the hold. It’s full of dragon cages - if your dad and Grimborn are being kept anywhere, it’s probably down there” he explained. “Hurry, before someone else comes and asks questions.” 

“Ugh, fine,” Snotlout grumbled, not wanting to waste time arguing. “But if you’re up here anyway, see if you can figure out which of these traps their dragons are in” he prompted. Eret gave a subtle nod of agreement. After checking that the coast was clear, the twins and Snotlout walked over to the hatch and climbed down the ladder. 

They went down to the second deck before they too were challenged. “Halt! State your names and purposes,” the hunter ordered them. Well, they had halted, at least. 

“Why don’t you come here and say that to my face?!” Ruffnut snapped to provoke him. He scowled and loomed over her, at which point she bestowed upon him the trademark Thorston head-butt. His eyes unfocused and rolled back as he slumped against the bulkhead; it was hilarious, but she told herself to focus. “Gimme a hand!” 

They dragged the hunters limp body into the corner. Then Tuffnut bound his wrists and ankles together with… “is that your  _ hair _ ?” Snotlout asked, grimacing. “Eww!” 

“Hey, on stealth missions, you gotta improvise” Tuff retorted. He then gagged the hunter with one of Ruffnut’s braid balls, or whatever they were called. They tasted of mould and rotten fish so this guy was gonna get a nasty surprise when he woke up. 

Ruffnut, already halfway down the next ladder, cleared her throat pointedly. “Are you boys coming or not?” Tuffnut hurried over and Snotlout, still grimacing, followed them. 

* * *

Up on deck, Eret kept up his pretence of guarding the trap, though it seemed like nobody was watching. He wished there was some way to tell which dragon was inside, or if there was even one trapped in there at all. Sometimes they were bound; sometimes they were released to wreak havoc. It would probably turn out to be one of the armoured dragons, that would then emerge and slaughter every one of them. 

Distraction or not, how were they supposed to open the traps and free the dragons? Besides, this tribe had a surplus of dragons; Eret didn’t see why Grimborn and this Spitelout guy couldn’t just ride other ones. Sure, they’d lose the Skrill...which would then be turned against them...okay so maybe they needed to get  _ that _ dragon back. 

They still had no way of knowing which dome contained the Skrill, or whichever kind of dragon the other guy rode. Eret wasn’t sure if the dragons would be  _ in _ the domes. Wouldn’t they be in the hold? Except if the prisoners escaped and freed them...but they were large creatures; getting them out would be harder than getting them in. 

He finally noticed that the deck around this dome was wet. Or rather it had recently been wet; it was hard to tell in the dark, but there were definitely water stains under his boots. The sides of the ship were too high for waves, even those caused by the Bewilderbeast, to splash up here; and if it was from swabbing, why would it not have dried out in this one spot? Eret wondered…had the dome been filled with water? 

If it had, then this might be the one they were keeping the Skrill imprisoned in. Such a dragon needed to be kept in water, because that way it couldn’t fire lightning without shocking itself.  _ Guess I might’ve picked the right dome to ‘guard’ after all,  _ he thought. 

Someone was coming that way. Eret aimed his crossbow at the sky, affecting an air of vigilance. The footsteps continued to approach...they were coming towards him...at the last minute, he lowered the bow and spun on his heel to punch the guy sneaking up behind him in the face. A second man grabbed his other arm; he slammed his elbow back, only for the first hunter to seize him too. Eret struggled with all his might. 

A third joined in and wrested away the crossbow; the first two prised off his helmet and hauled him in front of the person he dreaded seeing. “Drago, my old friend!” Eret blustered, still trying to wrench free of the hunters grip. “Long time no see, eh? I can explain” he rambled, “the riders captured me, I was trying to rejoin you, I’m on your” - 

He choked as Drago’s fist closed around his throat. “Liar!” the warlord snarled. “Who else is with you?” he demanded. To the men at large he shouted “search the ship! Find the intruders and bring them to me.” Every available hunter rushed to carry out his orders. Someone began ringing a series of bells that echoed through the vessel. 

“What do you want us to do with this one, sir?” one of the hunters holding Eret asked. 

Drago looked from him to the man holding his crossbow, and smirked cruelly. “I have two hostages already; I don’t need anymore. He’s a traitor. Put him to death” he said, callous. Eret struggled and yelled desperate protests as his captors forced him to face the man holding the crossbow. They stepped back, took aim right at his heart….

In the next instant they were falling back, dead, with a Nadder’s spike through their eye. Before he could even register what had happened, Eret felt his arms nearly get yanked from their sockets as Stormfly plucked him from the deck. The men holding him were also carried off, but she shook them both loose, one clawed foot at a time. 

“Are you okay?” Astrid called down to him. Eret didn’t answer; he was still in shock.  _ The dragon saved my life… _ “Eret! We’re gonna have to put you down on the island!” 

“Wait, no - put me back on the ship!” he called up to her, “I think I know where the Skrill is, I just need cover!” A moment later, Stormfly circled around and swept down upon the ship. She breathed white hot fire at the hunters aiming crossbows at her, melting the arrows in their path, and released Eret from her grasp. He drew his sword and started fighting his way towards the dome trap he really hoped the Skrill was in. 

As soon as the dragons started attacking, Drago marched up to the prow and began summoning his Bewilderbeast. Toothless dived to the attack and fired a plasma blast - only for Drago to sense it, or hear it coming, and crouch down. The blast struck him, but when Hiccup glanced back, Drago was already pushing himself back to his feet. 

Toothless banked sharply to come around for another pass; but Skullcrusher was already blasting Drago, and Stoick was waving them away. His auricles flicked at the sound of a net and he swerved out of the way, then blasted the net launcher apart. 

The ear splitting bellow of a Thunderdrum rent the air as Alvin flew in astride his own dragon. “Yer a fool, Stoick! Ya shoulda just surrendered when ya had the chance!” 

More dragons began to attack; Hiccup now regretted teaching the Outcasts of all people how to ride. “We gotta take ‘em out, bud” he realised. Toothless let out a determined snarl and scythed past a hapless Outcast on a Gronckle, hauling him right out of the saddle. He plummeted, screaming, and his dragon dove to the rescue. 

The alarm had been raised all the way down in the hold, but Snotlout and the twins were already there. They abandoned any pretence of blending in and charged, with glorious battle cries, at the lone guard. Their shields turned away his sleeper darts, so he drew his own sword and stood his ground. Snotlout barrelled into him and they battled in the cramped space, whilst Tuffnut slid open the latch on the cell door. 

“Hey, Viggo!” he said cheerfully, pulling off his helmet. “Whoa, what happened to Spitelout?” Even as he spoke, Tuffnut was taking out a lockpick and fitting it into the manacles around Viggo’s wrists. Ruffnut, meanwhile, did the same for Spitelout. 

“He got knocked out - long story” replied Viggo. At last there was a click and the cuffs opened; he pulled them off and rubbed his wrists. “I didn’t think you were coming.” 

Outside the cell, the first guard slumped to the ground, a bloody wound carving open his stomach. “Guys? We’ve got company!” Snotlout warned, hefting his axe as more hunters rushed down from the upper decks to corner them. “Could use a little help!” 

Viggo prised open the manacle around his ankle, having already managed to unlock it, and asked “mind if I borrow this?” as he slid Tuffnut’s sword out of its scabbard. He then went to fight the hunters alongside Snotlout, and so did Ruffnut, leaving Tuffnut to finish the task of freeing and reviving Spitelout. He managed to get the ankle cuff off and pinched the older man’s nose shut until Spitelout jerked awake with a gasp. 

“Rise and shine!” Tuffnut crowed. “No really, you gotta get up, we’re fighting for our lives here” he added blithely. Viggo came back in the cell and hauled Spitelout up. 

He then pushed Tuffnut out of the cell and urged him “get up the ladder, hurry!” Viggo and Spitelout followed the younger Vikings up to the next deck and back up through the ship. At last they emerged onto the top deck and utter chaos, with hunters aiming ballistae to shoot down Toothless, Stormfly, Meatlug, Hookfang, and Barf-and-Belch. 

As for the dragons, they were taking it in turns to attack Drago, keeping him from summoning the Sea-Giant. How it wasn’t hearing the noise and emerging on its own they had no idea, but none of them were about to complain. The freed prisoners and the rescuers charged across the deck, weapons drawn. Eret saw them and yelled “Oi! Get over here!” He’d gotten the dome half open - it did contain the Skrill after all. 

Barf-and-Belch snatched up their riders from the deck. Hookfang did the same to Snotlout and his father, only for both to protest that they had to go back for Kingstail. Eret kept cranking open the dome; Viggo caught up and scrambled inside. “Thanks” he said, breathlessly but genuinely, to Eret, as he began sawing through the ropes holding Moonlight down. “Apologies for the wait,” Viggo murmured, stroking her side. 

High up in the air, Spitelout and Stoick were arguing. “They’ve still got my dragon!” 

“There’s no time! I’m  _ sorry _ . We’ll get Kingstail back somehow, but we need to go!” 

Drago was bellowing; the Sea-Giant stirred, jerking the ship about as he rose from beneath the waves. Toothless roared an order to retreat. Viggo freed Moonlight at last and swung into the saddle. “Eret!” he called, reaching a hand out; the other man grabbed it and scrambled up behind him. “Go!” he called to Moonlight, who leapt up. 

With arrows and nets whizzing through the air around them, the dragons fled over Berk, past it, and north towards Amber Island. “Hang on! Where the devil are we going?” Spitelout demanded from behind his son’s saddle. “What about Berk?” 

“We’re catching up with the others,” replied Stoick. “We’ve evacuated the island.” 

* * *

Alvin didn’t bother pursuing Stoick and his one legged brat, or the rest of the Hooligans. What was the point, when Bludvist had Rumblehorns to track them with? Speaking of whom, to call their new overlord ‘angry’ would be an understatement. 

“You had one  _ simple  _ task,” Drago growled at the Outcasts furiously, “and you failed!” He was livid. A whole new flock of dragons for his army,  _ gone _ , thanks to these incompetent buffoons. Worse, the Hooligans had retrieved the Skrill, a dragon with which he could have decimated them. Drago rounded on Alvin. “You told me that you knew all of Berk’s secrets. You  _ swore _ that they had no chance to escape me!” 

Thinking quickly, or at least more than usual, Alvin replied “I did swear that, and it’s still true. I mean, think about it. If Stoick’s run away that means he’s  _ scared _ . They’ve gone an’ abandoned a perfectly good island! An’ they can’t keep running forever.” 

Face twisted into a scowl, Drago demanded, “then how did they escape in the first place, when you and your wretched sacks of flesh were meant to be on the lookout?!” 

There was no good answer to that question, and Alvin knew it. He thanked the Norns when a hapless minion blurted out, “It’s not our fault! They must’ve had a secret exit we didn’t know about.” The moment those words left his mouth, he clearly regretted speaking them aloud, but it was too late. Drago nodded at two of his own men, who stepped forwards and handcuffed the hapless individual. “Wh-what are you doing?” 

“A demonstration” the warlord replied coldly. Despite pleading for mercy, the Outcast had his wrists and ankles manacled, before being thrown overboard. “Of what happens to those who fail me. Fail one more time, and  _ all _ of you will be executed.” Those who remained were terrified. Including Alvin, though he refused to show it. 

Lars approached and cleared his throat. “Lord Drago, I know where the tribe has fled to. There’s an island they call Dragon’s Edge; that’s likely where they’re headed” he explained. “Oh, and the other tribes I mentioned, Defenders and Wingmaidens, live on nearby islands, and they’re all but defenceless against dragon attacks” he added. 

This pleased Drago. “Spread the word” he ordered one hunter, “have the fleet ready to sail.” The man bowed and hurried off. Drago glared up at the Bewilderbeast that loomed over them, pointed his bullhook at the village and thundered, “Destroy it!” He watched with a malevolent smirk as the leviathan hauled itself out of the ocean, blasting the scorched and abandoned village to pieces with massive bursts of ice. 

* * *

The sun had long since risen by the time the others reached Amber Island. When they arrived there was no sign of the flock, but only because everyone had hunkered down amongst the gorges, out of sight of the ocean. Gobber was relieved to see them. “Oh, thank Thor, you’re here. Not that I thought you wouldn’t be, of course.” 

“It was a bit of a close call at the end there,” Stoick admitted. “There wasn’t time to get Kingstail out, unfortunately. Still, we did what we intended to do” he said firmly. 

Spitelout grumbled, “Aye, and it took you long enough. Can’t say I’m not grateful though.” He and his brother in law clasped forearms in a warriors’ grip and slapped each other on the back. Then he turned to his nephew. “Right then! Until we can get my dragon back, I can’t just stay grounded. You can train another one for me, right?” 

“No, actually” Hiccup said bluntly. “I can’t just train a dragon in battle tactics that fast. What I  _ can _ do” he went on, “is help you find one to ride in the meantime, and work on a way to get Kingstail back. Hey, Viggo, you got any ideas?” he asked his mentor. 

Viggo looked over his shoulder and replied “I’ll see what I can do. Then perhaps the next rescue attempt won’t involve so much needless risk” he added a touch bitterly. 

Hiccup blinked. Astrid scowled and protested “what do you mean, ‘needless risk’? We took that risk to save you two! Drago was gonna have you  _ executed _ ” she declared. 

“I’m well aware of that, Astrid” he retorted, “and I appreciate your efforts to help, but I could have found a way for us to escape by myself.” He  _ always _ found a way, after all. 

“Oh, aye, and just how’d you plan to do that then?” Spitelout prodded. “Get me, you and both our dragons off of that death ship, seeing as how that guard woulda knocked you out with those bloody darts the second you made one wrong move!” 

Everyone looked from Spitelout to Viggo, and then to Eret, who stepped forwards and jabbed his rival in the chest. “Now you listen here, Grimborn. I can’t stand you, but I still risked my life to get your ass out of there, so don’t you  _ dare  _ act all high and mighty, because you know damn well you wouldn’t have stood a chance without us.” 

“Look, there’s no shame in needing to be rescued” Hiccup insisted, “and we weren’t about to leave you behind, if that’s what you were thinking. You’re not expendable.” 

“I’m far more expendable than you are!” Viggo snapped, striding over to glare at him. “I’d rather have been left behind than have you risk  _ your _ neck trying to save mine.” 

“What are you talking about? I wasn’t risking anything, I wasn’t even on the ship!” 

“And what if they’d shot you down?” Viggo demanded, grabbing Hiccup by the shoulders and shaking him a bit. “Do you have any  _ idea _ what he’d do to you, Al”- the rest of the word choked off; Viggo released him, backed off, and then strode away. 

“Sheesh. What’s his problem?” Snotlout asked callously, when he was out of earshot. 

Astrid inquired “did he say ‘Al’? What, as in Alvin? What does  _ he  _ have to do with it?” 

Her fiancé shrugged. “I’m going to go talk to him” he declared, making to leave. 

“Wait, hold on” called Eret. “So, uh, about our agreement…” 

“Oh! Right, yeah. Um...Eret, son of Eret, you are hereby no longer our prisoner.” 

“Thanks, but that’s not what I meant,” Eret said drily. “I’ve been thinking on the way here, and I figured…this, err, King of Dragons you mentioned, another Bewilderbeast. 

You guys are gonna have your hands full trying to survive Drago, but if there’s really another one of those out there, you get me back to my crew, and we’ll search for it.” 

His offer was extremely welcome to Hiccup, who had been planning to suggest the same thing. “I am really glad to hear you say that,” he replied, taking out his map book and tugging a sheet of parchment free. “You’ll need this; it’s a map to where we think the - what did you call it, Bewilderbeast? It’s somewhere in the north east.” 

Eret took the map from him and examined it. “That doesn’t narrow it down much.” 

“Yeah...the directions we found were a bit vague” Hiccup admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. Then a thought occurred to him, and he winced. “Oh...I just realised. One of us is gonna have to go with you - not that we don’t trust you” he assured Eret hastily, “but uh, we need someone who speaks Dragonese to ask the Bewilderbeast to help us. Only I don’t know who we could spare; we’ll need every rider we have.” 

Since Astrid would be the one to reunite Eret with his ship, she’d be the most direct option. Hiccup also knew she’d never stay away whilst Berk was in need, and sure enough when he looked at her, Astrid deadpanned “Don’t even think about it, babe.” 

Snotlout announced, “the solution is obvious, isn’t it? You and Eret take a detour to the Wingmaidens and get Minden to go with them. That way she’ll be out of danger, you can get back to us sooner, and I won’t have to…” he trailed off, and grimaced. 

“You know she wouldn’t leave her tribe to fend for themselves any more than I’d leave mine” Astrid responded, “and besides, Minden hasn’t learned Dragonese.” 

“...Shut up, Astrid.” 

Ruffnut sidled up to Eret and remarked, “y’know,  _ I’m  _ pretty fluent in Dragonese.” She growled flirtatiously at him; it was fun to watch him squirm. “Maybe I could help out.” 

“You mean  _ we  _ could help out” Tuffnut corrected. “We ride the same dragon, stupid. I don’t get why one of us needs to go. Can’t we just ask one of the dragons instead?” 

Eyes widening in realisation, Hiccup announced, “Tuffnut, you are a  _ genius _ .” 

“I am?” 

“He is?” Snotlout asked incredulously. 

“In this case he is; just, uh, not on purpose” explained Hiccup. “We can’t spare any of the riders, but we have plenty of dragons, and obviously  _ they _ speak Dragonese. We just need to have one of them travel with Eret in search of this other Bewilderbeast.

It’ll have to be a sea dragon,” he added, “seeing as how the ones on land breathe fire and, y’know, wooden boat, big ocean...that probably wouldn’t end well” he winced. 

“Oh, oh, oh!” Ruffnut jumped up and down, “we can send Scauldy! He’d love it!” 

“I think he’d be of more use to us,” admitted Hiccup. “He could sink the ships in that armada from below. Though I guess he could tow your ship, Eret, it’d be faster…oh, but they might need to go onto an island, and Scauldrons can’t fly - I mean, they can, but not that well.”  _ A dragon that doesn’t breathe fire and can fly…  _ “oh, of course.” 

Astrid prompted, “Hiccup, we don’t have much time. What’s your idea?” 

“Right, sorry, I’m just tired. A Thunderdrum” Hiccup replied, “That’s the ideal dragon to go with - hey, you could take Thornado” he suggested, “he’s used to people.” He offered a handshake to Eret, who returned it. “Welcome aboard. Astrid, you can help him find his ship, right? Great. I’ll be right back.” He gave his betrothed a brief kiss and then vaulted into the saddle, before flying off with Toothless in search of Viggo. 

* * *

They found the man on an outcrop, looking back at Berk. Hiccup dismounted and strolled over. “Mind if I join you?” he asked as he sat down, legs dangling off the cliff. 

“Not at all. I, ah, want to apologise for my outburst back there. It was...unbecoming.” 

“Eh, it’s fine. It wasn’t like you, that’s for sure” Hiccup remarked. “Do you really think it was a ‘needless risk’? I mean, no offence, but you’ve never been the self-deprecating type” he deadpanned, before adding, “or the self-sacrificing type, for that matter.” 

Viggo chuckled. “True. I may have been a bit hasty in calling it a needless risk” he admitted. “I understand you wanting to rescue Spitelout; he is your uncle, after all.” 

“Yeah, but it’s not like we were gonna come and save him and then just leave you. Besides, you’re...I mean, we’re not actually related, but we might as well be, by now” Hiccup commented. “If I can hear my  _ other _ former nemesis call me his little brother without batting an eye, what makes you think I’d mind having you as an uncle?” 

That prompted a raised eyebrow. “If that’s how you really feel...I’d be honoured.” 

“It is. Don’t tell Spitelout, but I prefer you and Gobber as honorary uncles than him as my actual uncle” said Hiccup. “Unless you’d rather be my mom, there’s a slot open.” 

They both laughed. “I do think you made the right choice with a tactical retreat” Viggo admitted once he’d caught his breath. “I assume this evacuation was your idea?” 

“Nope. Believe it or not, it was my dad’s idea. I did help convince everyone, though. We’re going to find ourselves an Accomplice.” He explained what he’d figured out regarding the Sea-Giant and King of Dragons. “And the best part, is that it’s Drago’s own fault we even know about this! If he’d never sent Krogan to look for the King…” 

“You’d have no idea they might be out there, and no hope at vanquishing him” Viggo finished for him. “Ah, I do love it when an opponent makes a self-defeating move.”

Hiccup smirked. “Yeah. Now I know how you used to feel” he remarked jokingly. All the dragons around them began to take to the air. “Looks like my dad’s decided it’s time to move on.” They both got back into the saddle. The sooner they got to Dragon’s Edge, where they could fortify and defend themselves more easily, the better. “I hope Fishlegs and Heather are doing okay,” Hiccup remarked anxiously. 

* * *

The Berserkers were angry. Anyone would be, if they were stuck in caves whilst their island was ransacked by enemies. Heather wished she hadn’t been forced to order a retreat, but those Nadders had left her with no choice. Far from attacking mindlessly, they seemed to have been trained to seize and haul other dragons towards the ships. 

Using one kind of dragon to capture others was an evil that Heather despised. Worse still, the Nadders were clever, and figured out that it was easier to grab the riders and use them as bait instead. When it became clear that continuing the battle would lead to them getting picked off one by one, Heather had led the B-Team into the caves. 

Now she had to deal with a bunch of ornery Vikings; which was nothing new, but they were more irascible than usual. Ansson in particular. “When are we gonna save Thunder?” he demanded. “My dragon risked his  _ life  _ to fight off those hunter scum!” 

“I know,” replied Heather, for the hundredth time. “For the last time, we tried to free him. It would be a lot easier if those Nadders weren’t harassing us the entire time.” 

“Well maybe you should have fought ‘em harder, then” Ansson declared. “If it’s that lot or ours, I say we do what Berserkers have always done, and take ‘em out!” There were shouts of agreement from other warriors in the tribe, who didn’t ride dragons.

Before she could respond to this, Gustav jumped up on the crate besides Heather and declared, “the only ones who need taking out are the hunters! It’s not those Nadders faults they were trained to attack. Dragon lovers shouldn’t kill dragons!” 

“This is war, little boy!” Ansson retorted cruelly. “War means killing! It’s them or us!” 

“Enough!” snapped Heather. “We’re not killing the dragons if we can help it. All of you need to calm down - I’m just as frustrated as you are, but getting hysterical isn’t going to help” she insisted. Windshear and Fanghook glared at everyone until they settled down. “Good. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to try and think of a way out of this.” 

She jumped off the crate and moved away. Gustav and their two dragons followed her. “I wanna help,” he insisted. “I should’ve gone back to Berk sooner. Sorry, Chief.” 

Heather turned to face him properly. “It’s not your fault, Gustav. You didn’t have to stay and fight with us, but you did, and I’m grateful.” She called Vorg over to her, and then beckoned them to follow. Leading the men over to another tunnel, she explained to Gustav, “this leads out to a cave on the other side of the island. You can’t really see it from outside so with any luck they won’t have found it, and you can get out.” 

“Right, got it. Don’t worry Heather, we’ll be back with reinforcements as soon as we can. Just hang in there” Gustav urged her, before waving a hand at his dragon. “C’mon, Fanghook, let’s move.” He and Vorg, as well as their dragons, hurried down the tunnel. Heather watched them go, and silently wished them luck before she left. 

* * *

“I hope the others are doing okay” Fishlegs muttered. He’d reorganised his dragon cards twice already, trying to occupy himself. At least when he wasn’t asking Meatlug to fly backwards so he could check they weren’t being followed. “We did the right thing, didn’t we girl? I mean, this was the plan; for us to get away and get Heather.” 

Meatlug rumbled soothingly beneath him. “Fishlegs worry too-much,” she insisted. 

“Oh, I know I’m fretting, but I can’t help it! I mean, what if something went wrong and they can’t rescue Spitelout and Viggo? What if they need us?” Fishlegs wondered. “But someone had to go, or Gustav and Heather would’ve come back to an empty Berk, and they wouldn’t know where we’d gone, they’d think  _ we’d _ been captured…” 

Rolling her eyes, Meatlug decided what her rider needed was a snack to calm him down. She was feeling a bit peckish herself. When she spotted an islet, more like an ambitiously large sea stack than anything else, Meatlug made a beeline for it. “You tired, huh? Okay, I, I guess it won’t hurt to take a quick break” said Fishlegs, though secretly he was relieved. There were stones for Meatlug to snack on and everything! 

There was also a small tree, which on closer inspection Fishlegs realised was dragon root. He wasn’t worried, though; Gronckles were immune to its effects. Just another reason why they were the best kind of dragon - in his own humble opinion, of course. 

_ I’m probably overthinking it all  _ he decided.  _ It’s not like we haven’t managed without a few team members before. Like that time Astrid and Tuffnut held the Edge against the hunters by themselves...or the time Hiccup and Snotlout rescued us from the hunters...or the time me and Heather came to the rescue against the hunters.  _

Honestly, it was starting to feel like all they ever did was fight dragon hunters. Not that Fishlegs wanted to just let them trap innocent creatures...but he’d hoped that once they defeated Krogan things would just go back to normal. Now that Drago Bludvist was after them, Fishlegs doubted anything would be the way it was again, even if they won. Who would they lose, he couldn’t help but wonder, before that happened? 

Still, having something to eat did make him feel a little better. “You always have the best ideas, princess” he cooed at Meatlug, who gurgled happily. Then her ears pricked up, and she waddled around to face southwest. Fishlegs shaded his eyes and looked up. He could just make out two specks in the sky, which quickly resolved into a Gronckle and a Monstrous Nightmare, both with riders. “Oh, thank goodness.” 

Fishlegs climbed back into the saddle. He and Meatlug flew up to greet the others. To his relief, it was Gustav...and the Head Guard of the Berserkers, what was his name again? Oh, right, Vorg. “I was coming to find you! Is Heather okay?” he demanded. 

“Yeah, she’s fine. Well, sorta” replied Gustav. “See, uh, their island’s kinda besieged.” 

“What?!” 

Vorg elaborated. “Four ships came yesterday and set these armoured Nadders on us. Nasty, vicious things they were, not like our dragons. Gustav and I managed to get out. We were heading to Berk to get more reinforcements, since  _ someone  _ didn’t think to bring any in the first place” he explained, much to the teen’s indignation. 

“Hey! How was I supposed to know you guys were under attack?” he protested, before realising, “wait a minute, Fishlegs, where are the others? Did you guys stop that huge ship, the one with a Death Song trapped on it?” Gustav asked urgently. 

Fishlegs shook his head. “There wasn’t...it was Drago, he has a lot of ships, and armoured dragons, he’s got this - this Sea Giant that can control them, like the King of Dragons, only Hiccup doesn’t think it’s the same one we were looking for. Point is, the chief evacuated Berk. I was coming to tell you that we’re retreating to the Edge and your tribe can come too” he told Vorg. “The others are on a rescue mission.” 

“To rescue Spitelout?” 

“Yeah. If I help you get those Nadders away, will you come with us to Dragon’s Edge?” Fishlegs asked Vorg. “The Outcasts betrayed us, there’s no one else.” 

“You’d have to ask Chieftess Heather” he replied, “but she’ll probably say yes. How are we going to stop these Nadders, though? They outnumber us all six to one.” 

Fishlegs pointed down at the islet. “There’s dragonroot down there” he explained, “you and I can use it to lure the Nadders away from the island long enough for everyone to get out. Gustav, you and Fanghook go back to Berserker Island. When you see us approach, tell Heather to get ready, okay?” he half instructed, half asked. 

“But I just got here. Alright, fine. No rest for the wicked, eh, Fanghook?” The two of them flew back the way they’d come. Meanwhile, Meatlug and Shattermaster went down to the islet. Their riders dismounted, and they set about digging up the root. 

Meanwhile, Fishlegs pulled some rope out of Meatlug’s saddlebag. “Do you have any on you?” he asked Vorg, who shook his head. “One of our dragons is gonna have to carry it in their claws” said Fishlegs, “I don’t have enough rope for both of us to use.” 

“Shattermaster can do that. Here, this will get it out quicker” said Vorg, moving around the dragons and wrapping his arms around the thick woody stem. He heaved with all his might, and Fishlegs joined in, until at last the knobbly tuber was exposed. 

Once they’d broken it off the stem, Vorg chopped the root in half with his axe. “Hopefully only half of the Nadders will chase either of us,” said Fishlegs, as he tied one end of the rope to a piece of dragonroot and the other to Meatlug’s saddle. “Now all we have to do is get back there, lure them away and…” he trailed off, frowning. 

Meatlug nuzzled her rider in concern. “What’s the matter now?” demanded Vorg. 

Swallowing hard, Fishlegs explained “sorry, I just...it’s a little hard, knowing those Nadders are going to get hurt because of us - because of me. I get that they attacked you guys first, but I still don’t like the idea of leaving them to fight to death over this.” 

Vorg didn’t really see the problem, but then most Berserkers weren’t as attached to dragons as the Berkians were. “We’re at war,” he pointed out. “It’s them or us.” 

With a deep breath, Fishlegs replied “I know we don’t have a choice, but that doesn’t make it any easier. We, err, we should get going” he said awkwardly, getting into the saddle. Meatlug took off, and after grasping the rest of the dragonroot in his claws, Shattermaster followed suit. They flew with their strange cargo to Berserker Island. 

It was clear from a distance that something was wrong; columns of smoke rose up from the now destroyed village. There were four ships surrounding the island on all sides of the compass. Sunlight glinted off the armour of the Nadders, who were besieging the entrance into the caves, shielded by two large Gronckle Iron doors. 

Meatlug and Shattermaster flew as close to the island as they dared. At their riders signal, they both roared. Several spiked heads turned to glare at them in unison, and the next thing, they were being hotly pursued by a horde of angry Nadders. Both Gronckles fled in opposite directions, and sure enough, the Nadders split up as well. 

The only thing that kept them one flap ahead of the faster, more nimble Nadders was that those dragons were squabbling with each other just as much as trying to catch Shattermaster and Meatlug. Fishlegs knew they couldn’t keep this up forever. “Over there!” he shouted, pointing at a cluster of sea stacks. Meatlug headed towards them. 

Fishlegs prepared to drop the root. As soon as his dragon spun to face the Nadders still swarming after them, he pushed the loop of rope over the saddle horn and let it drop over the side. To his immense relief, and also disconcertment, they went after it instead. “Come on, Meatlug, we don’t have much time” he urged, and they flew away. 

As soon as they saw the Nadders fly off after the dragon root, Gustav and Fanghook hurried back down the tunnel to where the Berserkers were besieged. “Heather!” he called out when he rushed in. “Heather, I’m back! You guys can get out!” he shouted. 

All the Berserkers within earshot looked over, and dragon heads raised across the cavern. “What are you talking about?” Heather questioned, “and where’s Vorg?” 

“He and Fishlegs are luring the Nadders away with dragon root” explained Gustav, the words tumbling out of his mouth, “and Fishlegs says our tribe - I mean, mine and his, the Hooligans, they’re retreating to Dragon’s Edge, and they want you guys to come too. Also, what part of ‘you guys can get out’ did you not get?” he prompted. 

A grin spread over Heathers’ face. She called out “Everyone saddle up! Fishlegs lured the Nadders away and bought us some time - now’s our chance to destroy those vessels once and for all!” Her people cheered in return and hurried to open the reinforced doors to escape their confinement, eager to strike a proper blow at their aggressors. “Thank you, Gustav,” she told him, and briefly pecked him on the cheek. 

Gustav blinked in surprise, flushing crimson. His dragon gave a snort. “Huh? Oh, right. Come on, Fanghook; let’s go kick some dragon hunter butt!” he cheered. 


	8. Eye of the Storm

The hunters were willing to starve this tribe if it meant getting more dragons, even though they could break down the steel doors blocking the cave and slaughter everyone inside. Or so they thought. None of them were expecting two of the dragon riders to escape, on Gronckles of all things, and come back with dragonroot. The Nadders got one whiff and rushed off to chase them in a shrieking spiky whirlwind. 

Stupid, mindless beasts. Horns were blown on the ships to try and call them back, though if they ended up killing the Gronckles and riders in a frenzy the hunters weren’t going to complain. The problem was that if the other dragon riders knew… 

It was almost not a surprise when the dragons attacked, flying out from behind the mountain and swooping down on them, flame spilling from fanged jaws. The hunters raised shields above their heads; as soon as the deluge of fire ceased, they fired crossbows loaded with poison tipped arrows, only to find themselves under attack.

The Berserkers had opened the steel doors and charged at the hunters, swinging axes and swords down on their crossbows. Caught off guard, the enemy scrambled to draw swords of their own. Roaring battle cries, the tribal warriors pressed their advantage, mercilessly striking down those who had dared to try and besiege them. 

Meanwhile, the dragon riders went straight for the ships, starting with the one that had captured Thunder. A few broke away to destroy the horns and those awful Screamers that were being blown and cranked, filling the air with a discordant ugly mess of noise. Without the Nadders to drive them off, they had the advantage again. 

“Keep together!” ordered Heather. “Watch each other’s backs!” It was liberating, not having to watch for a burst of white hot fire or a spike being flicked at one’s neck. She had Windshear fire at a catapult, which exploded into a fountain of scorching debris. 

Vorg and Fishlegs returned, their Gronckles spitting lava onto the ships from above. One by one the vessels began to break away, their weapons destroyed, trying to escape from a very grumpy Scauldron who, once freed, started trying to sink the ship that had had him chained. Soon their enemies were either dead or fleeing, and when Heather blew three long victory notes on her horn, a resounding cheer filled the air. 

The dragons landed and their riders dismounted. Heather and Fishlegs ran into each other’s arms. “You are a genius!” she praised, kissing him full on the lips. He blushed. 

“Hey, what about me?” Gustav protested, albeit half-jokingly. “I’m the one who told him we were in trouble. I mean, you helped too,” he added to Vorg, who looked rather indignant. “So, I guess now we’re gonna head to Dragon’s Edge, right?” he assumed. 

Heather turned to Fishlegs and explained, “I can’t ask the whole tribe to abandon this island, but the Hooligans are our allies and you guys are my friends. Besides, my big brother is up there and I can’t let him have all the fun. The B-Team will help” she declared, “but first we need to deal with those Nadders once and for all. That way even if the hunters come back, they won’t be able to attack our island as easily.” 

“Uh, you might wanna think of a way to deal with ‘em soon, then” warned Gustav, pointing up at where several of the Nadders were flying towards Berserker Island. Their dragons snarled, fully prepared to fight if it meant defending their riders, but the Nadders were acting oddly. They didn’t attack, or even seem to notice the crowd. 

They circled in the air above where the ships had been, calling out. One or two dived and landed clumsily on the ground, then didn’t get up again. Fishlegs took the risk and hurried over to see what was wrong with them. He was relieved to find they had only passed out. Under Heather’s direction the Nadders were rounded up and soon collapsed, unconscious. “It must be the dragonroot they’ve eaten” Fishlegs surmised. 

“Okay, but now what are we gonna do?” Gustav questioned. “As soon as they wake up they’ll start attacking us again!” There were cries of agreement from the crowd. 

Heather ordered, “Have them restrained and muzzled, then tend to their injuries.” She turned to Fishlegs. “You and Gustav should have something to eat before you leave. It’s a long way from Berserker Island to Dragon’s Edge,” she pointed out. Seeing as he was never one to turn down a meal, Fishlegs readily agreed to this. 

* * *

Weighed down with supplies and passengers, already worn out from fighting and retreating to Amber Island, the dragons were almost ready to fall out of the air by the time they reached Dragon’s Edge. They landed haphazardly on top of the cliffs. Many didn’t even wait to have their saddles or cargo removed, and slumped to the ground. 

Everyone, the dragon riders in particular, praised the dragons’ endurance and petted them in apology. They were exhausted as well, and for a while the Hooligans sat beside their dragons in silence, trying to come to terms with leaving their home. It was hardest on the kids, who were tired, hungry, thirsty and irritable because of that. 

There was still so much to do. The tribe gathered around Stoick, looking to their chief for guidance, but he knew another was better suited. Besides, it would be a good experience. “Hiccup and the dragon riders know this island better than any of us. Go on, son; what should we do first?” Stoick prompted, handing over the reins to him. 

Caught off guard, Hiccup nevertheless had been thinking about this on the flight over. “First we need to move the supplies to the storage space under the dome. Then we need to get the doors off the stables and put them in front of the mouth of the caves. The dragons will have to stay in there so we need some way to protect them” he said. 

“But where are we gonna sleep?” demanded Ack. 

“Yes, and what are we supposed to sleep  _ on _ ?” his wife questioned. There had been no time for anyone to retrieve supplies of clothes or bedding during the evacuation. 

“Well you can either stay with the dragons in the caves, or under the dome” Hiccup explained. “As for bedding, I’m sure the Defenders and Wingmaidens will be happy to spare us blankets and stuff like that. Look, this won’t be comfortable, but we just have to try and make the best of it” he insisted. Nobody looked very thrilled at the prospect. 

During a lesson on chiefing, Stoick had told him,  _ We Hooligans have huge egos - I know what you’re gonna say, don’t even think about it. So use that to persuade them. It’s like with kids; sometimes you gotta trick ‘em into doing stuff they don’t wanna do.  _

So Hiccup shrugged and remarked, “but I mean, if you guys don’t feel like sleeping rough for a few nights then maybe we  _ should _ surrender to Drago. I’m sure the cells aboard his ships will be much more comfortable” he deadpanned. After being forced to retreat from their ancestral home, the thought of giving in  _ again  _ was a blow to their pride, and suddenly every Berkian was brushing the inconveniences off as nothing. 

Viggo suggested, “perhaps we could take the Gronckle Iron sheets all over Astrid’s hut and use them to shield the ballista instead; it might come in useful” he remarked. 

Hiccup nodded. “Good idea. In fact, we...we should dismantle the huts” he declared, even though he disliked the thought of tearing down all their hard work. “I hate to say it, but if they’re gonna end up on fire anyway, we may as well burn them ourselves.” 

“Well, what are you all waiting for, permission?” Stoick cajoled the Berkians. “Form a chain down to the dome and let’s get this cargo shifted” he ordered. They began to do just that, only for the dragons to notice and insist on helping. In this way all of the supplies were moved down to the storage space below the dome, where it was cool and dry. The livestock were then corralled under the dome to recover and fed on hay. 

The riders cleared out what little had been left in their huts before these were torn down, including Astrid and Fishlegs’ huts. Many of the wilder dragons began to make themselves at home on the island. They clashed with the dragons already living there, especially the Night Terrors. Smidvarg approached Toothless and complained, loudly. The Night Fury had to fly around without Hiccup and break up fights, as well as persuade Darkvarg and the other White Terrors to give up space in their caverns. 

His rider was busy helping Gobber weld together every bit of Gronckle Iron they had at the forge. Just as they were finishing, Snotlout came to ask Hiccup to help his dad find a temporary dragon partner. “Y’know, I hate to sound pessimistic, but how exactly are we supposed to fight off an  _ army _ of mind controlled dragons when all we have are eighteen riders, and three of us aren’t even here yet?” he demanded. 

“They‘ll catch up soon,” Hiccup insisted, “and we’re not the only ones who’ll be fighting, so will the other dragons. We’re only barring the caves shut so that we don’t have to worry about them being lured off in the middle of the night” he explained. 

Gobber added, “Aye, but we could do wi’ a few more butts in saddles. From the sounds of it, having a person on their backs is a good way to distract the beasties from the big guys’ calls. Course I’d be surprised if Grump could be  _ bothered _ to obey” he joked, but it fell flat. “I, err, don’t s’pose you’ve got any plans for dealin’ with it?” 

“To be honest, my only idea is ‘drop rocks on it’” his apprentice admitted. “Hopefully that’ll distract the Bewilderbeast so it can’t control our dragons. It’s the best I’ve got.” 

“Sometimes the simple tactics are the best ones” remarked Viggo, having overheard this last bit. “Snotlout, I’ve been talking to your father,” he told the young man. “We’re going to try and rescue Kingstail tonight, before the fleet can get to Dragon’s Edge.” 

Snotlout perked up. “Okay. First question, how? Second question, can I come?” 

“Moonlight is going to fire lightning at the deck to knock out any witnesses, then we’ll open the domes and free any dragons inside, including Kingstail” he explained. “No, you can’t come. Spitelout and I agreed that it’s best only we go. The fewer lives we risk, the better. I won’t let anything happen to your father, though. You have my word.” 

With a scowl, Snotlout retorted “You bet I do. If he doesn’t come back, I’ll...” he clenched his fists and grit his teeth. “You know what I’ll do. C’mon, Hooky, let’s go hunt some boars or something.” He climbed into the saddle and his dragon took off. 

After they’d left, Hiccup remarked, “not to put a damper on this or anything, but I thought Moonlight ran out of shots. Skrills need to absorb lightning from storms.” 

“Yes” Viggo agreed mildly. “Which is precisely what she’s going to do.” Hiccup raised an eyebrow. “No, I’m serious. She’s gone to absorb more lightning as we speak. It just so happens that there’s a storm heading our way from the south, and if we time things right, it’ll be overhead when we go to rescue Kingstail. The armada can hardly blame a freak lightning strike on a Skrill if there’s a storm raging, now can they?” 

“How do you - ?” 

“Trust me, my boy. I’ve spent most of my life at sea, remember? You learn to spot the signs a mile off. Besides, if anyone could sense a storm coming, it would be a Skrill.” 

With a shrug, Hiccup admitted, “Okay, you got me. So, err, did you only come up here to talk to Snotlout? Uh, not that we don’t want you around, right Gobber?” 

The old blacksmith rolled his eyes and declared “aye, lad, but he’s probably here for you anyway! Steal my apprentice, why don’t you” he grumbled at Viggo. “You two go off and put ya heads together, figure out how to keep us all from certain doom. I’ll finish off here. Grump! Wake up, ya lazy heap o’ scales, ya let the forge die down!” 

Jumping aside as the Hotburple briefly woke from his impromptu nap and sneezed fire, Hiccup turned to Viggo and said “help me find Toothless, and then we can talk.” 

* * *

Stormfly and Thornado flew alongside each other. About halfway between Dark Deep and Dragon’s Edge, the Nadder spotted a ship sailing in the opposite direction. She flew down for a better look, and Eret cried out, “That’s my ship!” Astrid encouraged Stormfly to fly lower, though of course not too close to the ship. “Cut that out!” Eret yelled down when the trappers attempted to fire a net up at them. “It’s  _ me _ , you idiots!” 

Once they recognised their captain, the trappers hastily cleared a space for Stormfly and Thornado to land. Eret dismounted and marched over to indulge in a few hearty, manly back slaps as the crew welcomed his return. “Change of plan, lads. It seems Drago no longer appreciates our services...and I also kinda betrayed him...so we’re helping the dragon riders now. And yes, I’m just as surprised as you are” he added. 

His crew mates glanced at each other, fingers twitching at weapon hafts. “Captain, those riders took you hostage!” protested Gallas. “How are we s’posed to trust ‘em?” 

“I don’t know, maybe because I told you to?” Eret suggested, in no mood to argue.

Astrid held her hands up in a conciliatory gesture. “We’re sorry for kidnapping Eret” she told the crew, “but we  _ were _ planning on bringing him back to you guys, honest.” A thought occurred to her, and she asked, “how did you know which way to sail?” 

They didn’t answer until Eret repeated the question. “Them loggers back at the island our base was on told us where these riders lived around here” explained Gallas. 

Eret stepped back and placed a hand on Stormfly’s snout, to make it clear she meant no harm. “Drago had his men ready to execute me, and this dragon saved my life” he revealed; Gallas and the others’ eyes widened. “Drago Bludvist needs to go down, and these guys need our help in stopping him. We’re in, and that wasn’t a question.” 

More awkward glances, shuffling on the deck, wary eyes on the dragon. “Err, cap’n, shouldn’t we just go?” asked Marte. “We don’t need t’ get involved wi’ all this stuff.” 

“We’re already involved! Now’s our chance to switch sides and fight back against the man who did  _ this _ ” said Eret, tugging his furs down to reveal the brand on his chest. His crew flinched, and even Astrid looked perturbed. “But I guess if you’re  _ cowards _ ” - 

“We ain’t cowards” protested Gallas, “but how’re we s’posed to fight  _ Drago Bludvist _ ?” 

Holding up the parchment he’d gotten, Eret explained, “this is a map to the nest of a Bewilderbeast. They’re not a myth; Drago has one, it’s how he controls all those dragons in his army. We’re going to find this other Bewilderbeast, and then Thornado here”, he gestured to the Thunderdrum, “is gonna ask ‘em to help fight off Drago’s.” 

They looked sceptical. “I know it sounds crazy, but this isn’t a request” Eret declared firmly. “If I have to sail in search of dragons for crazy people, I’d rather do it for the crazy people who treated me well, not the lunatic who would have me executed without a second thought. Besides, I’m pretty sure this big guy won’t let us run off.” 

Thornado snorted as if in agreement. The crew, apart from Eret, flinched. He turned to Astrid and urged her, “I can take it from here. You oughta be going back to them.” 

Astrid gave a solemn nod, and touched a hand to Stormfly’s neck so her dragon didn’t leave immediately. “Thank you; and good luck, Eret. Oh, by the way, you might wanna get rid of those net launchers” she suggested to him casually. “Make more room on deck for Thornado, yeah?” Stormfly chirped a farewell to both Thornado and Eret, then spread her wings and hopped onto the bulkhead before taking off again. 

* * *

Heather told Fishlegs and Gustav to head for Dragon’s Edge, promising that she and the B-Team would catch up when they could. On the way back, Fishlegs couldn’t stop thinking about those Nadders. Many of them now bore gouged scars, especially on their legs, from clawing at each other as they fought over the dragonroot. “I did that.” 

“What?” Gustav looked over at him and asked, “Fishlegs, did you say something?” 

“Those Nadders - they got hurt because of me” he explained. “It was my idea to use dragonroot. I know it was a...a necessary evil and all...but those dragons didn’t deserve it. That’s the worst part about - I mean, we’ve spent what, five years now? Helping dragons, and protecting them, but now that Drago’s come for us we’re back to being at war with them, and I  _ hate _ it” Fishlegs announced, clenching his fists. 

Gustav flinched, as did Fanghook, and Meatlug rumbled sadly. Fishlegs’ eyes went wide; then he sighed and apologised. “Sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” 

“S’okay. Did...did you guys really have to leave Berk? I mean...it’s our home.” 

Fishlegs grimaced and shrugged helplessly. “Yeah, I know, and we’re gonna go back if - I mean, when we can. It’s not completely hopeless, though” he revealed. “Hiccup thinks the King of Dragons, the one we went looking for, is still out there and if we find them, they can help us stop Drago once and for all. We just gotta hold out until then.” 

He trusted Hiccup’s judgement. Fishlegs had seen his friend do amazing things; not least of which was taming dragons in the first place. There was no need to lose hope. Or so Fishlegs told himself. It was either that or fret constantly about how they were going to survive this ordeal, and all the friends and family who might lose their lives. 

_ It’s going to be okay,  _ he told himself firmly.  _ It’s going to be okay. Odin, please let it be okay…  _ Gustav interrupted his anxious, spiralling thoughts. “Fishlegs, are you okay?” 

“Huh? Yes! Never better” he lied. “Just, uh...are  _ you  _ okay?” he inquired, deflecting. 

“I guess,” the teen shrugged. “Hey, Fishlegs, could we...if we keep our distance from it, could we go to Berk? I just wanna see what’s happened to it” he admitted. Fishlegs hesitated, but he too felt a bit of morbid curiosity about the fate that had befallen their island. So he agreed, as long as they didn’t attempt to land if the ships were there. 

It was getting dark by the time Meatlug and Fanghook reached Berk. The army of dragons had gone, leaving destruction in their wake. Every single house in the village was burned to the ground. The stone carvings of Thor and Tyr in the harbour were now nothing but rubble. Huge protruding spikes of blue green ice covered the cliffs. 

Their dragons landed amongst the wreckage of the village. Fishlegs and Gustav didn’t dismount; there was no reason to. “It...it’s all gone” the latter murmured. “They destroyed  _ everything _ . I don’t understand...why do they hate us so much?” he asked. 

With a helpless look, Fishlegs replied, “I guess because they hate dragons. Gustav, I don’t know about you, but I couldn’t bear to stay here for the night.” The teen nodded in agreement. “Can you guys make it to the sea stacks?” he asked Meatlug and Fanghook, who nodded. “We’ll camp out there, have a rest, then head for Dragon’s Edge. We need to go the long way round to avoid that armada” he explained. 

* * *

Back at the Edge, Hiccup reunited with Toothless (who was very pleased to see him) and sat down with Viggo to discuss battle tactics. “Okay, so there’s four things we have to do,” he announced. “One, protect the non-combatants. Two, distract the Bewilderbeast. Three, fend off an army of dragons, and four, destroy the armada.” 

“Yes, that does seem to sum it up” his mentor agreed. “Fortunately we have our own dragon army. Let the riderless dragons deal with the armoured ones, and we focus our efforts on defending, distracting and destroying. Not necessarily in that order.” 

Hiccup wasn’t in the mood for jokes. “Well, the first priority should be keeping that Bewilderbeast from controlling other dragons” he insisted, before suddenly realising, “Wait. Viggo, the Submaripper, the one you captured before...could you find it again?” 

“Maybe? The ocean is rather a large place, if you hadn’t noticed” Viggo deadpanned. “We could go looking for it, by all means, but it would need to accept Toothless as it’s Queen if you want it to join our side. It’s only their loyalty to him that kept most of our dragons from joining Drago’s army during the battle on Berk” he explained solemnly. 

“Yeah, I know it’s a long shot, but we still have to try,” Hiccup insisted. “We need every advantage we can get. I’m sure Toothless and I can convince the Submaripper to help us. We did free it from...well, you...no offence, so maybe it’ll return the favour.” 

“Oh, no offence taken. Well then, it seems we have a Submaripper to find. Speaking of which, do we have any other sea dragons in the flock already?” inquired Viggo. 

Hiccup nodded. “Actually, yeah. Five - no, four Thunderdrums, and a Scauldron. At least I think we still have them. Right, they could sink the ships from below. Hm...Oh! We can get the Night Terrors to help us as well” he said confidently. “I mean this is their island too, after all. What d’you say, bud? Can you help me talk to Smidvarg?” 

Toothless cracked an eye open, grumbled at having his rest interrupted, and closed it again. “I’m just gonna take that as a yes,” Hiccup decided. “Right. We have eighteen riders, and when the B-Team gets here there’ll be twenty four. So that’s...six people in each group, and then eight...first team defends the base, second team distracts the Bewilderbeast, third team frees the dragons. We...we might actually have a chance.” 

His tentative optimism was short-lived. “Assuming that the B-Team does show up” remarked Viggo. “Or that we find the Submaripper, and it’s willing to help, and the Bewilderbeast doesn’t kill or control it.” Upon seeing Hiccup’s death glare, he held his hands up in mock-surrender. “I’m just saying you’re leaving a lot of this up to chance.” 

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I have much choice, is it?” Hiccup snapped, rising to his feet. “I don’t hear  _ you _ coming up with any ingenious solutions, mister Maces and Talons” he mocked. “Don’t you get it? If I don’t  _ try  _ to end this, then everyone I care about is gonna die or be enslaved, and the last thing I need is you telling me I’m being naive!” 

He glared at Viggo, panting after his outburst. Finally his temper cooled a little, and he looked away, embarrassed. Toothless crooned reassuringly and nuzzled his rider, even as he silently snarled at Viggo for upsetting the young man. For a few moments neither of them spoke, and then both uttered words at the same time. “...after you” the older man invited, once a few more awkward moments had stretched out. 

“Look, I’m….I’m just stressed, okay? I shouldn’t have lashed out like that, but…” 

Viggo shook his head. “No, you should have; I deserved it. The way I spoke was callous, and for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” Hiccup accepted the apology; this wasn’t the time to be arguing. “Your plan to get aid from the Submaripper really is ingenious, by the way. I don’t actually think we’re _completely_ doomed...merely _slightly_ doomed.” 

“If there’s no other Bewilderbeast then we really are doomed” Hiccup sighed. “Unless some miracle happens...Drago isn’t going to stop until we’re all destroyed, is he?” 

With a sigh, Viggo answered, “I’m afraid not. A man like that, with such a thirst for power and control...I don’t blame you for being scared, you know” he added. Hiccup looked at him in surprise. “Only a fool wouldn’t be afraid. There’s a lot at stake here.” 

“Yeah. How...how do you deal with that?” his apprentice asked cautiously. “Because you’re right; there’s so much that could go wrong, and if I don’t plan it right then we’ll stand even less of a chance. I’m  _ sure _ Heather will come with the B-Team and that we can persuade the Submaripper to help, but...what if they don’t? What if Drago wins?”

“...I’m going to assume the last one was rhetorical,” said Viggo, “but accepting defeat - at least the possibility of it - is the most difficult and necessary part of competition. Or war, in this case. What I’m trying to say is, if you dwell on all the things that could go horribly wrong, you’re going to stress yourself out even more and make mistakes.” 

Silence fell as Hiccup mulled this advice over. “I did accept it,” he murmured quietly. “Before the rescue mission, I...we all knew the risks. I guess it’s easier to deal with this when it’s just my life on the line, and not innocent people. I...I’ll try not to dwell on it” he agreed, “but I wish I could have peace of mind that some of us will survive this.” 

Hiccup asked him how he dealt with that pressure, but the way Viggo had always dealt with it was merely by...not caring. He was not heartless enough now to think of people (on his side, at least) as expendable, but there was rarely a clear cut option. “I understand” he remarked at last, “but I actually think they’re safer here. Compared to our nearest allies, the Edge is better defended; if only because of all the dragons.” 

The young man frowned slightly, considering. “That’s just how I’d look at it, of course” Viggo went on, “but I’m hardly a suitable person to ask. If you want my advice - go talk to your father. I can’t imagine Stoick is feeling different than you do right now.” 

Before Hiccup could respond, Toothless sat up on his haunches and roared at the sky. Moments later, Moonlight landed on the ground, her scales still crackling over with lightning. “Welcome back, my dear,” her rider greeted, before turning to Hiccup and saying, “I’ll get Spitelout. We need to free his dragon and the sooner, the better.” 

Hiccup nodded in understanding. “I’ll tell dad you’re going. Good luck on the mission.” 

* * *

Stoick was overseeing the installation of the storm doors when Hiccup arrived. “Ah, there you are, son! How’s the strategizing going?” he inquired. “And where’s Viggo?” 

“He’s gone with Spitelout to rescue Kingstail” answered Hiccup. “Dad, can we talk?” 

The chief nodded and walked aside with him a little ways. “What’s on your mind?” 

Before he could stop himself, Hiccup admitted “I’m scared. Not for me. For everyone else, the kids especially. If the worst happens, and we can’t hold Drago off…” He couldn’t bring himself to say it, but it was clear that Stoick understood nonetheless. 

“Aye. They’re our tribe’s future, and you’re afraid you won’t be able to protect them. That you’ll fail as a leader. I know exactly how you feel. That’s how I felt every day during the Dragon War” his father acknowledged. “It’s not easy. It never gets easy.” 

He couldn’t resist snarking, “y’know, you’re not really making me feel any better.” 

Stoick put an arm around his shoulders. “I had a talk with Astrid about similar things, once” he recalled. “You can’t stop feeling responsible for those in your care; that’s just not who you are. So, you own it. Let it be what drives you to ensure the worst  _ doesn’t  _ happen. Then if it does, you know you gave the fight everything you had.” 

Hiccup grimaced a bit. “You make it sound simple, but I wish I could know for sure.” 

“Well then, why don’t we send the wee ones elsewhere? To one of our nearby allies.” 

“I thought of that, but Viggo thinks we’re better defended, what with all the dragons. He has a point; the Defenders and Wingmaidens don’t have as many….” Hiccup trailed off, eyes wide, and then he smacked a hand to his forehead. “Argh. I forgot to send Terror Mails to warn them about Drago, I was busy helping Gobber, and then” - 

“So take care of that” interrupted Stoick. “Ask if they can shelter the children and elders on their islands instead. After all, it’s not like Bludvist and his cronies can read our minds and know exactly what we’re doing, is it?” he reasoned. “Chin up, son. We aren’t going down to bow at Drago’s feet without a fight, you can be sure of that.” 

The young man gave a nod and got back in the saddle, ready to find somewhere to write letters to Mala and Atali. “Thanks, dad. It’s...well, it’s nice to know you get it.” Toothless flew off, and in the air, Hiccup’s mind began racing, trying to decide which of their allies, Defenders or Wingmaidens, it would be better to send the children to. 

* * *

Moonlight had found a storm and drawn in as much of its lightning as she could. It was invigorating. Though weighed down with two humans instead of one, she found the strength to fly swiftly back towards Drago’s armada. Viggo just hoped his gambit would pay off; the timing was essential. They had to be there at the same time as the storm, in order to disguise Moonlight’s strikes from above as a natural occurrence. 

The storm found them first, and in moments they were engulfed in driving rain. Far below, the two men searched for a glimpse of the lanterns that the ships would need to stay together in this storm. The wind was deafening, squalling like a gigantic injured dragon all around them. Moonlight navigated the eddies with practised ease. 

At last, Spitelout noticed blurred lights on the horizon and pointed them out to Viggo, who urged Moonlight closer. The sight that greeted them, or what little they could see of it through the rain, was disturbing. The same armoured dragons that had been set against Berk were now chained to the prow and being forced to haul the vessels. 

It was undoubtedly cruel, though part of Viggo couldn’t help but admire the efficiency of it. He knew better than to comment on that, of course. It was frustrating; his plan had hinged on the dragons being safely out of the way when they made their move. 

“Now what do we do?!” asked Spitelout, over the noise of the storm. Whatever they were going to attempt, they’d have to do it soon. The various ships weren’t moving too swiftly, (except for Drago’s flagship, the  _ Conqueror _ ), but they kept up a fair clip. 

Viggo instructed Moonlight to fly behind the flagship, as low as she dared, so they could get a better look. That vessel was ahead of the rest, being towed as it was by the Bewilderbeast...which meant that the captive dragons on board were still in their cages. “I think our plan might work after all!” he called over his shoulder to Spitelout. 

At his urging Moonlight flew higher, into the cloud cover, then drew on the lightning she’d absorbed and fired it straight down at the flagship. Viggo and Spitelout covered their eyes, and even then the glow seared through their eyelids. It would undoubtedly blind anyone unlucky enough to be watching. The crackling, deadly flickers spread across the rain soaked deck, electrocuting every person they came into contact with. 

The Skrill followed her lightning down and hovered above the deck until the sparks wore off. Spitelout vaulted off her back first and went over to the nearest slumped form. He rolled the man over and saw only a frozen, very startled expression. “Dead.” 

“Water and lightning don’t mix. Moonlight, stay low” warned Viggo. “We need to hurry. Which of these traps is Kingstail being kept in?” he asked Spitelout, who beckoned for him to follow. When they got to the dome, he and Moonlight kept watch. Spitelout cranked open the dome, until at last his dragon was revealed, thoroughly restrained. 

Kingstail gave a purr that sounded rougher than usual, as if he hadn’t drunk anything for too long, and tried to pull himself towards Spitelout. “Shh! Hang on, we’ll get you out of here” his rider promised, drawing a knife and starting to cut through the ropes. Viggo began to help too. Moonlight hissed when a man emerged from below deck. 

The first thing he saw were the bodies; the second thing was a Skrill. To give him credit, he didn’t try to fight, just scrambled back down the ladder to raise the alarm. 

“So much for subtlety” remarked Viggo, drawing his sword and chopping through all the ropes on Kingstails right side at once. Spitelout did the same on the left, and then tore off the muzzle. As soon as Kingstail was free he lurched to his feet. His rider vaulted onto his back, Viggo swung up into Moonlight’s saddle, and they took off. 

Arrows were fired at them from a neighbouring ship, but it was too little too late. Both dragons fled north quickly as they could, trying to stay ahead of the fleet. They made it to Amber Island. Kingstail headed straight for the nearest stream to drink his fill. “We need to keep moving,” Viggo insisted. “The armada is a lot closer than we thought they’d be. It won’t be a week before they reach the Edge - it’ll be a few  _ days _ .” 


	9. Strike Back At Last

Astrid returned not long after Viggo and Spitelout left. Once she was out of the saddle, Hiccup embraced her and she kissed him. They both ignored Snotlout’s obnoxious complaints of “you’re in public!” and “is now really the time?  _ Really _ ?” 

“He is such a hypocrite” she grumbled once they’d found a more private place to talk. “If Minden were here, Snotlout would be all over her, but when  _ we  _ kiss suddenly it’s a problem. Ugh.” Astrid pulled a face and decided, “never mind him. What’s the plan?” 

Hiccup gave her the rundown on their defences. “The hard part is gonna be keeping that Bewilderbeast distracted, especially if it doesn’t come out of the water. I mean it’s gotta surface now and then to breathe, right?” he reasoned. “Oh! I just remembered, I want to try and find a Submaripper. I know it’s a long shot, but we need sea dragons to wreck Drago’s fleet. It might even be enough to drive some of the ships away.”

“Let’s hope so” Astrid sighed. “What’s wrong?” she pressed, when he grimaced. 

“Nothing,” he said quickly. She gave him a pointed look; Hiccup sighed and admitted, “sorry, I’m just...kinda stressed about all of this. I know the Submaripper might be killed by the Bewilderbeast, and I don’t  _ want _ to put them in danger, but it feels like I have no choice. We need every advantage we can get if we’re gonna have a chance to survive this, and well,  _ some _ dragons dying, compared to our whole tribe…” 

His words trailed off. Astrid squeezed his hands between hers and told him, “you’re not in the wrong for putting your people above everything else. That’s what a good leader does.” She gave a rueful smile. “I had to learn the hard way, remember, that I can’t protect everyone I love all the time. Neither can you. Besides, we’re doing this to save every dragon in the archipelago from Bludvist. It’s all for the greater good.” 

Another rueful smile found its way onto Hiccup’s lips. “I know I’m overthinking things. Should we try and find the Submaripper? Do you think it’s worth the risk?” he asked.

She hesitated, and replied “I think...it depends. On whether we can stop this armada without the Submaripper’s help. I mean, we can’t exactly stop the Bewilderbeast from trying to...you know.” They both grimaced. “Can we even find him? It’s a big ocean.” 

“The last time we found him wasn’t far from here” answered Hiccup. “Trouble is, there aren’t any landmarks to navigate by. It’s just...ocean, but it’s the only lead we have.” 

Astrid remarked, “he might not even want to help. Do you wanna see if we can find him now, and ask him?” she suggested. Hiccup nodded gratefully. They mounted up, briefly stopping by to warn Stoick where they were going and that they’d be back before dark. Toothless and Stormfly flew out to where the Submaripper was possibly lurking, deep beneath the waves. “So, how exactly are we gonna get his attention?” 

In response, Toothless fired at the water. This caused a large splash and a billowing cloud of steam, but there was no indication it had disturbed a giant, whirlpool making sea dragon. Neither did the second shot. “It was a good effort, bud” Hiccup assured him, yet the words were barely out of his mouth when the ocean began to churn. 

Within moments a large swirling vortex had appeared on the surface, and the most unpleasant odour of rotting fish wafted up to assault their nostrils. “Ugh!” Astrid choked, pinching her nose with one hand, clinging to the saddle with the other as Stormfly recoiled. “I’m starting to regret this idea! Hiccup, now what?” she demanded. 

“We gotta get his attention! Toothless, blast it” he urged, pointing at the centre of the whirlpool. Toothless obliged. The waves surged, soaking them all with spray, as with an aggrieved roar the Submaripper broke the surface. Toothless and Stormfly roared back in turn. “Ask him if he’s willing to help us destroy some ships” Hiccup prompted. 

It took awhile to get the message across, because sky and sea dragons rarely spoke to or understood each other. The Submaripper seemed eager at the prospect of wrecking ships, but when Toothless explained that he’d have to pledge loyalty to the Queen of the Nest, to keep from being controlled by the Sea-Giant, the sea dragon let out another terrible roar and dived back to the depths. He never resurfaced. 

“So, I’m guessing it was a ‘no’, then” Hiccup surmised. He felt relieved, and yet rather disappointed. The Submaripper would have been a powerful ally to them in the war. 

Toothless replied, “He-call us crazy. Say not-can stop Sea-Giant; must stay-away.” 

“Hey, at least we tried,” Astrid insisted. “Maybe this is for the best,” she added as they flew back to Dragon’s Edge. “It would’ve been devastating if he helped us and then got killed.” Speaking of which…once they had returned, she strode over to her fiancé. “Hiccup, love, listen to me. I need you to promise me something important, okay?” 

Taking hold of his hands, Astrid looked him right in the eye. “Promise me that...if the worst happens, and I get killed - no, listen” she insisted, when he made to protest, “we don’t know who’s going to...we don’t know what’ll happen. Just, promise me you won’t blame yourself. I’m a warrior, I know there’s a seat in Valhalla waiting for me.” 

Hiccup had a feeling it would be something like this. He gave her hands a squeeze and replied, “So long as you promise the same; and that we’re both gonna try  _ not _ to die.” In spite of the grim topic, Astrid chuckled a bit, and pulled him into a deep kiss. 

* * *

The B-Team caught up with Fishlegs and Gustav in the night, and rested on the sea stacks with them. Their dragons knew the others had arrived, but they were asleep, and so had quite the surprise the next morning to find themselves with company. 

“Why didn’t you wake us?” Fishlegs asked Heather as they got underway again. He was glad she and the others had caught up, but they’d lost a lot of time sleeping like that. Or so it felt, even though he knew their dragons had needed the rest as well. 

Heather gave a shrug and replied, “you just looked so peaceful.” A second later she blushed and hastened to add, “err, not - not that I was watching you sleep, that is!” 

Now he was turning red as well. “Uh, no, I didn’t think you…” Fishlegs cleared his throat and changed the subject. “Wait, so, what happened with those Nadders?” 

“They came to, not long after you guys left, and they lashed out,” she admitted. “We managed to calm them down, though, and after that they were just...confused. Windshear told me they were asking where their masters were, asking if we were their new masters…” Heather grimaced. “I don’t even wanna think about what the hunters must have done to those poor dragons to make them feel like - like slaves.” 

Fishlegs scowled as well - he despised the notion just as much as she did. “That’s awful. Still...at least they didn’t go on a rampage...right?” he inquired, wincing a bit. 

“No. I mean, we - we did restrain them, to be on the safe side; but we freed them as soon as we were sure they weren’t gonna attack” explained Heather. “We gave them fish and dragon nip, let them use the grooming station - y’know, to get on their good side if you like. From what I could tell, it worked. They seemed a lot happier, at least.” 

He breathed a sigh of relief, and even managed a smile. “It could’ve been worse. So, err, do you think your tribe will manage them whilst you’re gone?” Fishlegs inquired. 

She forced a smile as well and responded, “Hey, our tribe used to be fighting dragons too, remember? They’re  _ Berserkers.  _ They can handle themselves.” She shrugged and continued, “or y’know, maybe I’ll come back and find the village destroyed.” It was meant to be a joke, but Fishlegs cringed. “Sorry. I was just kidding, honestly.” 

“I-I know. It’s just...Berk was destroyed. The whole village, everything, it’s - it’s all just  _ gone _ ” he revealed, spreading his hands out in a helpless gesture. “I know Stoick said we’d come back and rebuild it one day, but...there was always something of the place left standing, even back during the raids. This means we’ll be starting from scratch.” 

With a sympathetic grimace, Heather suggested “maybe you have to look at it as an opportunity then. To start over, build something even better than you had before.” That was a nice way of seeing it, Fishlegs supposed. He just hoped they’d get such an opportunity; that they hadn’t left Berk just to have their tribe be doomed anyway.

* * *

“Who’s the cutest little princey-wincey?” Dagur cooed at his son in the cradle. “Who’s gonna be the best king the Defenders have ever had? You are. Oh yes, you are!” 

He shook a rattle shaped like a mace. The baby kicked and drooled everywhere. With a fond chuckle, Mala commented “I see you have big plans for little Oswald.” 

“How could I not? Our son might be a tiny, smelly, drooling skin-bean  _ now,  _ but one day he’ll grow up to be a big, strong, handsome man; just like his daddy! Isn’t that right, Ozzie? I’ll teach you how to crush your enemies and strike fear into your foes!” 

Mala quirked an eyebrow. “Drooling skin-bean?” she repeated. “ _ Really,  _ Dagur?” 

Dagur waved a hand dismissively. “ _ All _ babies are drooling skin-beans, my sweet. Ours just happens to be the most adorable one, obviously. He gets it from you.” 

Torn between amusement and exasperation, Mala replied, “be that as it may, I’d rather you didn’t refer to our son as a ‘skin-bean’. ‘Bean’, yes, ‘skin-bean’, no.” 

“Sorry” he winced. After fidgeting for a bit, he asked out of the blue, “am I a bad father?” Mala stared at him. “I don’t want to be, I swear. My father wasn’t there for me, but I want to be there for Oswald. Only it’s kind of my own fault Oswald Senior wasn’t there for me” Dagur began to ramble, “cos you know, I used to be crazy...what if it’s passed down? What if he’s too much like me, the old me, a raging maniac?” 

A sudden knock on the door made him jump. Before his wife could do anything, Dagur leapt to his feet and strode over to the door, wrenching it open. “Yes?” he bit out, remembering at the last minute to keep his voice down. The messenger handed him a scroll with a wordless bow, and left. The scroll had ‘WARNING’ written on it. 

“It’s from Hiccup,” said Dagur, upon recognising the handwriting. Mala came over to read the letter with him, both of their faces pinching into expressions of dismay. 

_ To Dagur and Mala,  _

_ Drago Bludvist is here. He attacked Berk yesterday with a Bewilderbeast, a leviathan that can command other dragons. Our tribe has evacuated to Dragon’s Edge, but it will only be a few days before Bludvist’s armada catches up with us. We really need supplies of food, water, bedding - whatever you can spare, before the fleet arrives.  _

_ There is still hope. We figured out we can counteract the Bewilderbeast’s commands by plugging our dragons’ ears to drown out it’s Call, and we’ve sent someone to find the King of Dragons, which is hopefully another Bewilderbeast, to help us fight it off.  _

_ From Hiccup Haddock.  _

_ PS: Don’t worry about Heather. Fishlegs has gone to Berserker Island to warn her.  _

“We have to help them,” Dagur insisted. “Which I know is odd coming from me, but…” 

“No, it’s not” his wife replied. “And for the record, you’re not a bad father at all. The fact that you would worry about it proves that.” They began to kiss, but then Oswald started fussing. “I’ve got him. Go and tell Throk what has happened. We will send the Hooligans as many supplies as we can spare, and prepare for a siege” she declared. 

With a decisive nod, Dagur left their home. Mala picked up her grizzling son and sat back down in her chair to let him suckle. “I hoped your first days wouldn’t be marred by war, little one” she murmured sadly. “Don’t be afraid. No harm will come to you.” She said it more for her own benefit than his. “We’ll protect you with our very lives.” 

Meanwhile, Dagur interrupted Throk’s training to show him Hiccup’s letter. “Thor help us,” the latter muttered. Dagur revealed that the queen wanted aid to be given. “Of course, your majesty. After what the dragon riders have done for us, sending them supplies in their time of need is the least we can do to return the favour” he agreed. 

They had known for months now that this day was coming, and fortunately, they’d stockpiled enough over the winter that a few supplies could be spared. Mostly food; living on a volcanic island meant they didn’t have as much need for extra bedding, but they added what little they could. The Hooligans must have fled Berk, not just left it. How threatening this armada must be, to drive the Berkians from their home! 

* * *

Iggy was a very clever little dragon, and very determined, but it was a long way to the island filled with Razorwhips, and he only had little wings. So now he was  _ very _ tired. 

As it happened, Minden was out flying with Silverwing and intercepted the Terror, who gratefully draped himself on her shoulder. “Worn out, huh, little guy?” she asked with a fond smile, and unrolled the parchment that had been tied to his leg. Her eyes grew wide as she took the message in. “Back to the island, hurry” she urged Silverwing. 

They returned home and she sought out Atali, who was overseeing the training of new acolytes. “Atali, urgent news from Hiccup” warned Minden, holding out the scroll. 

Frowning slightly, Atali took it and read the words carefully. Her frown deepened. 

_ To Atali,  _

_ Drago Bludvist is here. He attacked Berk yesterday with a Bewilderbeast, a leviathan that can command other dragons. We evacuated to Dragon’s Edge, but it will only be a few days before the armada catches up with us. We need supplies - food, water, bedding, whatever you can spare. Also, I want our tribes’ children and elders to stay on your island, so they don’t get caught in the crossfire when Bludvist next attacks.  _

_ We’ll bring them to you since you don’t have any ships. This is just advance warning.  _

_ There is still hope. We figured out we can counteract the Bewilderbeast’s commands by plugging our dragons’ ears to drown out it’s Call, and we’ve sent someone to find the King of Dragons, which is hopefully another Bewilderbeast, to help us fight it off.  _

_ From Hiccup Haddock.  _

Finally she looked up again, and declared to the acolytes, “our allies are in need of aid. Go and prepare the guest quarters; you might have to share space for a while,” she warned. They saluted and hurried off. Atali looked at Minden and ordered, “go tell Nadia and our fellow sisters of this news. I’ll start getting some supplies together.” 

Minden gave a nod, and climbed back into Silverwings’ saddle. Part of her hoped to be sent to Dragon’s Edge with the supplies. Not just because she wanted an excuse to see Snotlout - though that was part of it - but to ask Hiccup why they abandoned the quest to find the King of Dragons, and who had they given the task to now? 

“I don’t suppose you know, do you?” she asked the little Terror, who was still curled up on the saddle between her knees. He blinked up at her and licked his own eyeball. Minden rolled her eyes and sniggered a bit. “Okay. I should’ve seen that coming.”

* * *

When the women who had taken their children to the Wingmaidens returned, they were accompanied by one more. “Hey, babe!” Snotlout greeted Minden as she dismounted. “You missed me, didn’t you?” he smirked, holding his arms out for a hug. 

Instead she walked right past him and declared to Hiccup, “I’m here to help you fight Drago Bludvist. Don’t worry; I’ve talked to Atali and she’s given me permission.” 

Before Hiccup could reply, Snotlout interrupted with, “Great! The more the merrier. Is, uh, that the  _ only _ reason you came here, or…?” he trailed off, trying to drop a hint. 

“Oh! Yes, I did miss you” she assured him, before giving him a kiss on the cheek. 

Astrid inquired, “Minden, are you sure about this? What if your own tribe needs you?” 

“You guys wouldn’t have sent your children to us if you thought they’d be in danger” she pointed out. “I mean, this armada is coming after your tribe. Err, no offence. So if it gets defeated here, it will never be able to attack mine. Besides, what can me and Silverwing do against a fleet by ourselves?” Hearing her name, Silverwing purred. 

Hiccup still had his doubts, but there wasn’t time to argue over this. “Alright” he decided, “you can help, but you have to be careful. You two haven’t trained for this.” 

“We’ll be fine. Silverwing and I have been working together since she was a baby” Minden said confidently. “Besides, I’m sure Snotlout can give me advice, can’t you?” 

“You better believe it,” he smirked. “Stick with me, babe. Snotlout will protect you!” 

Astrid rolled her eyes at Hiccup, who had to try not to laugh. Then a shout came from the sentry on duty - two dragons were approaching the island. “Snotlout, your dad’s back - and they got Kingstail out!” Everyone hurried over to greet the returning riders. 

Moonlight and Kingstail were clearly exhausted. They didn’t land gracefully so much as collapse, sides heaving. Viggo clambered off and struggled to his feet, looking more haggard than Hoark. “We’ve been flying all night,” he revealed. “It’s the armada - they’re being towed by dragons. They weren’t that far from Amber Island; if they can keep the same speed up, by my estimates they’ll be here by tomorrow morning.” 

Glances and mutters of alarm and dismay flickered between the onlookers. Spitelout added, “Aye, an’ they had dragons in cages below deck, at least aboard the big ship we were prisoners on. So they can just swap the beasties out when one gets tired.” 

Hiccup asked, “Did you see any sign of Fishlegs and Gustav, or the Berserkers?” 

Viggo shook his head. “ I’m sure they’re fine. It’s not like they’d be foolish enough to go close to the armada.” Well, he knew at least Fishlegs wouldn’t be. “We need to” - 

Stoick interrupted. “ _ You  _ need to have a rest, man. You both look dead on your feet.” He called for their dragons to be given food and water. To the crowd at large, the chief announced, “This changes nothing. We don’t surrender. We  _ cannot  _ surrender. We’ll shore up our defences as much as possible whilst we still can, and keep a lookout. Be ready, and have your dragons ready. Tomorrow, we make our stand!”

“No,” Hiccup said firmly. “Not tomorrow. Why not tonight?” he questioned. “Why wait for them to get here, when we could fly out there, cripple the fleet, and maybe even rescue some of those dragons? There’s still plenty of time for you guys to recover” he said to Viggo and Spitelout, before noticing the look on Viggo’s face. “Er, you okay?” 

“Never better. You took the words right out of my mouth” the older man grinned. The swelling in his chest must have been pride. “How about we talk tactics over drinks?” 

“I feel like you need the drink more, but sure” Hiccup agreed. Once they were settled with tankards and a Maces and Talons board, he explained that they had decided to send the children to the Wingmaidens. “It’s not like Drago’s gonna read our minds and know where we sent them,” Hiccup pointed out. He then added, “By the way, Astrid and I found the Submaripper, but he wouldn’t help us. He thinks we’re crazy.” 

“Well, it was a bit of a long shot” Viggo admitted, “but an inspired tactic regardless. Why the Wingmaidens, if I may ask? Not that I think they’re incapable, of course.” 

Hiccup explained, “their home is inaccessible to ships, and it’s also not a volcano. If the Defenders are attacked - Odin forbid - then the Great Protector will be targeted, and if  _ he’s  _ captured or, or worse, the Defenders will have to abandon their home too.” 

“So the Wingmaidens are more stable,” the older man nodded. “I doubt it would occur to Lars either. He might have told Drago about Berk’s allies, but a master strategist he is not. Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise me if he gets cold feet and tries to desert.” 

“This is Drago we’re talking about. Deserting him would be more of a death sentence than fighting for him” Hiccup retorted. “Or fighting against him, for that matter.” 

“We’re as prepared as we can be,” said Viggo. “The dragons in his army will be tired from hauling those ships, whereas ours are well rested. That gives us an advantage.” 

“Good point” Hiccup conceded. “Toothless, no” he scolded, noticing the Fury was scratching at the moss plugs in his ears. “Sorry, bud. I know it’s not comfortable, but it’s for the best. You don’t want that Bewilderbeast to take control of you, do you?” 

Toothless huffed and pressed his nose into Hiccup’s hand. “Toothless not-want.” 

“Attaboy,” Hiccup smiled. “First off, I think we should all pair up with a wingman.” 

Viggo took a long draught of ale and nodded. “Agreed. With one exception, that is.” 

Puzzled, Hiccup asked “wait, who’s the exception? You don’t mean  _ you,  _ do you?” 

“As a matter of fact, yes. You and Toothless are the only ones who can keep up with Moonlight, but you’re also the ones most at risk from her lightning, for obvious reasons. It makes more sense for her and I to work alone, whilst Stoick defends you.” 

“I can take care of myself” Hiccup insisted, “and you’re talking like we’ve never fought side by side before. Toothless and I used to battle Moonlight! Err, no offence” he added to the still exhausted Skrill. She cracked an eye open to glare at him a little.

“Perhaps, but what about Astrid? I’d have thought you’d want to be her wingman.” 

“I do. It’s just, I had this other idea to pair the Nadders and Gronckles together. Their firepower is the best combination we’ve found for getting through dragon iron” Hiccup explained. “Speaking of firepower, you know how Toothless and Moonlight’s blasts  _ explode  _ when they collide? You don’t think that might come in useful, just a little bit?” 

Unimpressed by the sarcasm, Viggo retorted “all the more reason for us not to be partners, given that from what I’ve heard, the shockwaves are powerful enough to knock dragons out of the sky. Hiccup, my boy, I appreciate your concern, but it’s safer for everyone if they’re not within range, so to speak, when Moonlight makes a strike.” 

It was clear from his tone that he didn’t intend to argue the point further. Hiccup groaned. “Okay. Look. Let’s just try and figure out who’s going to partner with who…”

* * *

The other riders finally arrived on the Edge. Their dragons were quickly provided with fresh fish and water, which was devoured greedily. The first words out of Heather’s mouth were, “Astrid, we passed over the fleet - its  _ huge  _ \- and they’ve got dragons”- 

“Towing the ships, we know. Come on, Hiccup’s about to tell everyone the plan.” 

Astrid led them to where everyone was gathered in the arena. Hiccup stood on the edge and outlined their tactics. “We wait until the fleet is close enough that anyone who’s injured can return here fast enough to, you know, not die. Gothi will be waiting here. The rest of us are gonna pair up with each other so that we have a wingman” - 

“I call dibs on Minden!” 

Annoyed at being interrupted, Hiccup retorted, “Who could have seen  _ that _ coming?” There were sniggers from the crowd, and Snotlout grumbled. “So anyway, we all pair up and cover each other. I have a list here of who’s getting paired with whom” - 

He was interrupted yet again by Phlegma the Fierce, who protested, “I need to stay here and help Gothi. You think she’ll be able to triage all those wounded by herself?” 

“Uh, well no, but I was thinking that maybe some of the, uh, other women could…” 

“What, stay here whilst our husbands are out fighting?” Brunnhild demanded. “But I bet you’ve paired yourself and your cousin up with your sweethearts, haven’t you?” 

Viggo retorted, “and the children? Are you going to risk them being orphaned?” 

“Mine and Sven’s kids are adults now” Brunhild shot back, “and what would  _ you _ know about what’s best for children?” she asked snidely. Everyone started bickering and protesting, until an indignant Moonlight hissed, her scales crackling with lightning. Toothless was also snarling, and between them, they quelled the restless crowd. 

Hiccup looked at the sky as if praying for patience, and then instructed, “before we go on, put your hand up if you plan to stay behind and help Gothi.” About half a dozen Berkians raised their hands. “Okay. Thank you. So, can I finish the briefing,  _ please _ ?” 

“Aye, son” encouraged Stoick, “an’ there won’t be any more interruptions” he added, glaring at the villagers. He didn’t blame Hiccup for getting a bit frustrated with them. 

With a grateful nod, Hiccup gathered his thoughts and continued. “We have three - no, four objectives. Deal with the Outcasts, take out the war machines, cripple the ships, and free as many dragons as we can. Don’t forget to aim for the prows as well, so they can’t get hauled. As for the Bewilderbeast...we might be able to break it free, and then maybe - hopefully - it will be too distracted by that to control our dragons.” 

“Just remember, it’s us being in the saddles that distracts them from his commands. The more damage we do now,” he declared, “the more we slow them down, the more time we buy ourselves. We get in, hit them whilst they’re vulnerable, and get out.” 

Stoick cleared his throat, and when everyone looked at him, explained, “if any of you get a chance to take out Bludvist without risking your own life, take it - but  _ only  _ if you won’t risk yours. As far as I’m concerned, your deaths are not worth his.” He was addressing the crowd, but Hiccup had a suspicion that his father really meant  _ him _ . 

Well, and so what if he’d been planning to try and end this war once and for all? 

* * *

An hour later, the sun had completely set, and everyone waited anxiously for the scout to return. Jusken and his Nadder came back at last. “The armada’s coming, chief” he announced, “they’ll be close enough to see in...half an hour or so, maybe?” 

Stoick gave a nod. “Fighters! Saddle up!” he ordered. They mounted their dragons. Toothless let out a roar, commanding the rest of the flock to “ **FOLLOW** ”. The air was filled with rustling wingbeats as the feral dragons rose in a swarm around them. The riders flew in three formations out to sea, with Hiccup, Viggo and Stoick in the lead. 

“I just wanna say, it’s been nice knowing all of you” declared Snotlout, “and if by some miracle we win, but I fall in battle, I want a ten foot statue of myself dedicated to me.” 

Tuffnut added, “Me too, except make it twelve foot high. Or I’ll see you in Valhalla.” 

Far below them the armada became visible, or rather dragons hauling the ships. It appeared there were fewer vessels than before. The Hooligans began their attack, capitalising on the element of surprise. Toothless dived, his signature whistling, scream-of-the-damned battle cry building to a peak... then it ended with a thunderous, fiery burst of flames, and a catapult aboard the flagship collapsed. 

With that the battle was joined. The armoured dragons ceased towing the ships and landed on the decks to be released from their chains. Large spiked monstrosities - Heather had warned them of these, called them Screamers - were cranked around. A dreadful, mind numbing high pitched wail, like that of the Screaming Death, issued from them, disorienting any dragons nearby. Then the first Screamer was blown up. 

Moonlight struck with bloodthirsty fervour, raining lightning down on the barbaric war machines and anyone unfortunate enough to be standing nearby. The ships were attacked from below as well. Scauldy, Whirlwing, Bing, Bam and Boom circled the fleet, firing at the hulls of ships on the edge, but giving the flagship a very wide berth. 

The Outcasts attacked the other riders, trying to tear them out of the saddle or kill them with a well aimed sword swipe. The Berkians gave as good as they got, though trying to dodge hostile dragons, arrows, nets,  _ and _ metal bolas was no easy feat. 

Sven and his dragon were engulfed by a net, and crashed to the deck. Scorchblade spat a gout of flame at their attackers, only to be peppered with dragon root arrows. Sven pulled out a sword and engaged the hunters to defend his dragon, whilst his wife and her Nadder kept the rest at bay, flaming and flicking spikes at the archers. 

Alas, it was two against one - no sooner had Sven beheaded one man, than the other plunged a sword through his midriff. Brunhild let out a scream of rage at the sight. Her Nadder killed the human responsible and snatched up his body, but there was no time to save Scorchblade. They fled back to the island, as she prayed he might live.

Alvin, now riding on his own Rumblehorn (the big black and red one) went after the heir of Berk and his fiancé. They’d make good hostages against Stoick - who, talk of the devil, was chasing after him and looking murderous. “ALVIN! Turn around and fight me, you Thor-forsaken treacherous cowardly son of a troll!” the Chief bellowed. 

Realising they were being pursued, Toothless and Stormfly quickly dodged away. 

Skullcrusher fired a blast at Alvin, but the other Rumblehorn sensed it and jerked aside at the last minute. Gobber and Grump were occupied with taking out the archers on a nearby ship, by the simple expedient of skimming over their heads and knocking them out with Grumps clubbed tail. Skullcrusher resorted to a new tactic, namely ramming his opponent whilst their riders swung weapons at each other. 

“Look, Stoick, it weren’t  _ personal _ !” Alvin shouted. “I got nothing against you and Berk, honest! I were just doing what’s best fer my tribe, you can understand that, right?” 

“Oh, I understand just  _ fine,  _ Alvin!” the chief bellowed back. “I understand that you’re a  _ coward  _ who sided with a  _ tyrant _ , just to save your own skin!” He punctuated each shout with a swipe of his axe, feeling the bones in his arm shudder each time it impacted Alvin’s war hammer. On this third strike, the blade met flesh at last. Alvin yanked his bleeding hand back, as his hammer and several fingers fell into the sea. 

Stoick pulled back his arm to throw the axe. “Stoick!” he heard Gobber yell, and saw that Grump was being dragged towards a ship by a chain around his bulbous tail. The other Rumblehorn fled; his chance to end Alvin was lost. Skullcrusher wheeled around, and Stoick hurled his axe instead at the winch hauling his best friend down. 

It jammed, and blasts from Skull, then Grump, broke the chain. “Thanks!” Gobber called over as they fled, breathless but grateful. “Shame, though! You loved that axe!” 

“Ah, it was just an axe!” Stoick rejoined. There were some things worth losing it for. 

* * *

Elsewhere amongst the melee, under their riders direction, Hookfang, Fanghook, Silverwing and Kingstail were showering the wooden ships with flaming spikes. “How d’you like me now, you wretched cowards?!” Spitelout yelled down at the hunters. 

“Look out!” Snotlout yelled at the top of his lungs, seeing a spear cut through the air. They dodged aside and the projectile kept going unimpeded, only to impale Hoark’s Gronckle instead. The poor dragon exploded - her fire bladder had been ruptured, and her riders charred corpse was thrown out of the destroyed saddle into the ocean. 

The spear launcher - shaped like a mockery of a Nadder, insultingly - was quickly set on fire, along with the rest of the ballista. To their credit, the hunters didn’t even flinch at the attack, merely raised shields to block the rain of spikes. Spitelout had to admire them for their warrior spirit, even though he despised them for getting his friend killed. 

Bucket and Mulch were Hoark’s wingmen, but they’d been on his other side, unable to block the spear. Their Zippleback engulfed the deck in a cloud of noxious gas and ignited it. The ship exploded and began to sink. “That was for Hoark!” shouted Mulch. 

“Yeah, because you kill”- Bucket never got to finish his sentence. Instead he slumped, an arrow embedded in his neck. A barb from Silverwing’s tail ended the archers life, as a distraught Mulch urged Whip-and-Lash to flee back to the Edge. 

Despite their losses, the tide of the battle seemed to be turning in the Hooligan’s favour. Almost every ship was on fire, and a few on the fringes were even breaking away to escape the onslaught. Yet in the air things were entirely different. Bludvist’s dragons had armour, many with weapons attached to them, and fought more fiercely than the Berkian dragons, who had grown used to their calm life in the last five years. 

“Hiccup, look!” Astrid called out, looking at the flagship. Drago was standing on the forecastle, barking out orders and yet exposed. Hiccup recalled his father’s warning, but surely this  _ was  _ the ideal opportunity. Face hidden behind his helmet, he gave a decisive nod and urged Toothless to strike from behind, trusting her to cover their backs. If they could just strike Drago on the back of the head, before he could - 

**STAY AWAY!**

Toothless abruptly swerved, firing his half charged blast and missing entirely. A chainmail net cut through the air towards them, but Stormfly snatched it in her claws and flicked spikes at the men who had fired it, scattering them. “Hiccup! Are you two alright? What happened?” Astrid demanded as their dragons fled out of range again. 

“I don’t know! Toothless, why did - ? Are you okay?” he asked his dragon worriedly. 

Groaning, the Fury explained, “sorry...Sea-Giant repel..too loud...head hurts…” He shook his head back and forth, and when he opened his eyes, Hiccup was alarmed to see his pupils turn to slits. Toothless bucked in midair, jolting him in the saddle. 

“Snap out of it!” Hiccup yelled, reaching out to pin Toothless’ ear-flaps down. 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a projectile whizz towards them, with no time to turn. He kicked out with his leg reflexively and screamed as an arrow impacted his right shin. No, not an arrow - one of Stormfly’s spines, when she’d lashed her tail at nothing. His cry jarred Toothless out of the Bewilderbeast’s control. “Hiccup hurt?!” 

“I’m fine! We need to fall back!” If the Bewilderbeast took control of Toothless then he’d get control of all the dragons, and their tribe would be doomed. “Give the order!” 

Toothless heaved in another breath, looking exhausted, and roared “ **RETREAT** !” 

Hearing their Queen’s call, the Berkian dragons who hadn’t been killed or captured began streaming back towards the Edge. The ones with riders didn’t feel any kind of compulsion to obey, but fell back nonetheless. All except for Hookfang; he and Snotlout were trying to rescue Silverwing and Minden, who were stuck aboard a ship. The Razorwhip’s wing had been clamped by the teeth of one of those domed traps. 

“Help!” Snotlout bellowed at the top of his lungs, as he struggled with the stuck winch. Hookfang breathed a tongue of fire straight up in a distress signal, and moments later Moonlight landed on the deck. Her rider leaned out of the saddle as far as he could to help turn the gears. It took all their strength, but the dome began to crack open… 

“Look out!” cried Minden, as several armoured dragons swooped down on them, gaping jaws filled with flame. Moonlight whipped round and unleashed a bolt of lightning at them, knocking them out of the sky. The sudden, inescapable brightness of the bolt seared into Minden’s eyes and she screamed, flinching away, but it was too late. The world was pitch black no matter how much she blinked. “I can’t see!” 

Silverwing was free at last, and fled; Hookfang leapt into the air and followed her. Viggo hauled himself back into the saddle, and Moonlight raced away from the battle. They left dead comrades and dragons and burning ships behind them, but thankfully the armoured dragons did not pursue them, held back by the Bewilderbeast’s call. 

* * *

When they got back to the Edge, the villagers were full of questions. Mostly along the lines of “why did we retreat? We were starting to win!” All eyes turned to Hiccup and Toothless, but the former was preoccupied looking after the latter, so Astrid spoke up. 

“The Bewilderbeast started taking over Toothless’ mind; if it did, then  _ all  _ our dragons would be next” she explained. “It happened to Stormfly, too. He’s exhausted, look at him.” Sure enough, Toothless was slumped on the ground, eyes closed. Hiccup was pressing a damp cloth to his forehead and stroking him steadily, looking anxious. 

At this, most of the villagers looked sympathetic. “It gets worse,” announced Tuffnut. “We lost Snotlout and Minden,” he revealed, much to everyone’s alarm. “Viggo too, I guess. I mean, I dunno if they’re  _ dead,  _ but they’re not here, are they?” he shrugged. 

It was only now that they noticed the three were absent. Hiccup, feeling guilty for not realising sooner, was relieved when Heather cried out, “Wait, look, there they are!”

Hookfang, Silverwing and Moonlight landed on the cliffs. Snotlout practically fell out of the saddle in his haste and rushed over to help Minden down. “Thanks a lot, guys. Way to leave us behind. Did you even think to check, peg leg?” he sneered at Hiccup. Viggo came nearer and Snotlout put himself in front of Minden. “Stay away!” 

“Snotlout, it was an accident” - 

“Shut up! You keep that - that  _ death-spitting _ creature away from my girl, or else!” 

Hiccup stepped forwards and demanded, “woah, what in Hel’s name happened?” 

“I’ll tell you what happened. Minden’s gone  _ blind,  _ thanks to that stupid Skrill! I never did trust that dragon” Snotlout declared, petty. “No surprise with a rider like  _ you _ .” 

Viggo glared and opened his mouth to retort, but Minden got there first. “Snotlout, stop! It  _ was  _ an accident. Moonlight was trying to protect us, it’s not her fault I was looking in the wrong direction. I don’t blame her, or Viggo, so neither should you.” 

“But he - and you’re - argh!” Snotlout growled. He clearly wanted to blame  _ someone.  _

“Just take her to Gothi, you muttonhead” Astrid insisted. “I was blinded by lightning once, remember? And she managed to heal my eyes. She can heal Minden’s too.” 

Snotlout calmed down a little, and hooked his arm under hers. “Okay. Fine. C’mon, I’ll guide you there. Watch your step, that’s it…” The crowd parted to let them both pass. 

An uncomfortable silence was left in their wake. Hiccup looked at Viggo, but the older man held a hand up before he could speak, and then silently walked away. Moonlight trudged after him. Though tempted to follow, Hiccup knew that Toothless needed him more right now. The poor Night Fury had struggled to his feet with Meatlug’s help, but his eyes were still glazed over. “Hey, bud. It’s me. C’mon, let’s get you a nice drink...” 

* * *

WThe fires of the burning armada were just visible on the horizon. Already much of it had gone out, from the ships sinking or being doused, Viggo didn’t know. Nor did he particularly care. This didn’t feel like a victory. They had struck a blow against their enemies, no doubt, but it was a blow that could still be recovered from. Given that they had evaded his wrath three times now, Drago would undoubtedly be furious. 

He was frustrated as well. The nerve of Snotlout, blaming him - blaming Moonlight! She hadn’t - well, she  _ had  _ blinded Minden, but not on purpose. She wouldn’t do that. 

“Snotlout’s a muttonhead,” declared Astrid. “You should just ignore him, like I do.” 

Viggo hadn’t even noticed her following him. “How did you…?” he began to ask, but she gave him a pointed stare, and he sighed. “Right. That was a stupid question.” He really must have been distracted, if he was being this slow on the uptake right now. 

Astrid had noticed as well, but didn’t comment. “Hiccup wanted to follow you, I could tell, but he’s looking after Toothless” she explained. “So, what happened back there?” 

“Minden’s dragon was trapped. I was helping Snotlout to free them, but then two Thunderclaws attacked us. Moonlight struck those ones down, but her lightning is very bright...I can’t expect people to trust me, but I  _ swear _ that it was an accident.” 

Astrid punched him on the arm, but for her that was almost affectionate. “I know that. Look, you want some advice? If I were you, I’d apologise to Minden. Or let Moonlight apologise. She said she doesn’t blame you, but it wouldn’t hurt to say sorry anyway” she pointed out. “Besides, I bet that Gothi will heal her eyes up just fine by tomorrow.” 

“One can only hope” he muttered, before stifling a yawn with the back of his hand. “Excuse me. I’m a bit tired.” If by ‘a bit tired’ one meant ‘utterly exhausted.’ He’d been awake since yesterday and not slept. Astrid raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment. 

Instead she explained, “we’re going to send off the fallen, and then settle down for the night. Everyone’s worn out, I think. Come on, we should head back.” Astrid turned and walked back towards the camp. Viggo hesitated, but then followed after her. 


	10. At The Table Of Kings

Surrounded by the familiar sounds of lapping waves and creaking wood, the deck rising and falling steadily beneath his feet, Lars almost felt at peace. That is, if not for all the hints that if he failed this mission, it would be a long time before he tasted the sweet release of death. Not for the first time was he tempted to simply desert them. 

There were some fools who’d call that cowardice. Lars called it self-preservation. He was all for respecting tradition and the family business; it was just practical to keep oneself alive. Even at the expense of other people. Besides, he’d done his part. His revenge against Viggo was more or less sealed. There was no reason to be here. 

He wouldn’t even betray anyone; no sense in risking the jaws of Nidhogg. Once the mission was over, Lars would just...hang back, steal one of the Defenders’ longboats and sail the long way back home. Ooh, maybe he could fake his own death for added effect. So long as  _ they  _ didn’t know he had deserted, then it didn’t really count, right? 

_ This is pointless,  _ he thought bitterly.  _ I bet they don’t even know what we’re doing.  _ Of course, that wasn’t a risk this bit of the fleet could afford to take. Especially after his damned former cousin had killed everyone on guard that night with that Skrill.  _ I bet he was hoping I’d be on duty.  _ Lars pictured himself using the Skrill’s skull as a helmet. 

On second thoughts, he should probably stick around a little bit longer. Long enough to make sure that Viggo was dead, and that one legged brat for good measure. He heard footsteps on the deck and hastily pointed his spyglass up at the dark sky. The ship’s captain approached him and roughly demanded, “any sign of dragon riders?” 

“No, sir” he replied immediately. The man frowned, and wordlessly reached out to grasp the spyglass, twisting it to point the right way round. “Uh, heh, heh...oops?” 

“Nice try. Just for that you’re pulling a shift on the way back, too” the captain sneered at him. “I’ll be reporting your insubordination, mark my words. Be more vigilant, man.” With that warning given, he turned and strode away. Lars resisted the urge to make a rude gesture at his back. Keeping lookout was dull, but still an important job for their line of work. Either you spotted dragons that could be followed to their nests, or… 

Well, the only way they’d gotten any beasts past those dragon riding brats was by having a lookout spot a patrol early enough for the ship to turn around and evade it. Nevertheless, Lars couldn’t help but feel relieved when the Defender’s island began emerging from below the horizon. Now maybe they’d actually get something done. 

* * *

Caldera Cay seemed peaceful that night. Most of the Defenders were asleep, but not all. Throk was on his nightly patrol, checking in with each of the sentries on duty. He knew them all by name; he had trained alongside some of them, and been involved in training the rest. None reported seeing anything out of the ordinary - then a warning horn was blown, in one long blast; enemy ships approaching. Throk broke into a run. 

The sentry who had sounded the alarm met Throk halfway. “Ships coming in from the southwest, sir” he reported. “I counted five, but there might be more on the way.” 

“Good work. Hurry, we must evacuate the village before they send dragons to attack it” Throk ordered. The man saluted. They both hurried down the path, barely breaking a sweat. Daily training had its benefits. Each sentry had a horn to be blown at the sound of another, passing it down the trail. It was his duty to defend the King and Queen. The village horn would have been sounded by now, rousing everyone else. 

Dagur jerked awake at the noise and was out of bed, weapon in hand, before he even realised it. “Mala, wake up” he urged, shaking her shoulder. His wife stirred with a groan; normally she’d be as alert as him, but with all the midnight feeds...speaking of which, Oswald began to cry, and that was enough to rouse her. “The horn blew.” 

Those three words had her leaping out of bed and dressing as fast as possible. He did the same, both of them pausing now and then to shush Oswald, to no avail. The babe had a good set of lungs on him, and that was a source of great pride for Dagur. 

As soon as he was ready, Dagur gave Mala a brief kiss and hurried out the door. Sleuther was waiting for him. Throk came running up. “My liege, there are five ships approaching the island from the southwest” he reported. “What are your orders?” 

Mala emerged, along with a servant who sometimes helped babysit Oswald, and now cradled their son in a sling against her chest. “Take care of him” the Queen urged her. 

“Of course, your majesty” the girl replied, bowing her head to them all in respect. She walked away, swift but calm, murmuring to the baby held in her arms all the while. 

Dagur frowned. “What about you?” he asked Mala. “You need to take shelter as well.” 

Mala drew herself up to her full height and replied, “I need to help defend my people. Oswald will be safe with Iduna, but I cannot - I  _ will  _ not stand by whilst my island is attacked.” Shattermaster trundled over to her, and she went to climb onto his back. 

“Wait!” called Dagur, stretching a hand out. “Ride with me instead, I can protect you” he urged. Just as she hauled herself onto Sleuther’s back to sit behind him, a horn was blown in warning once more. Shouts of “Dragons approaching!” filled the air. 

Dagur looked down at Shattermaster and urged him in Dragonese, “ _ quick, gather Rock-Tails, defend island. _ ” Gronckles weren’t the most aggressive of dragons, but when they banded together en masse, they could take on even a Screaming Death. 

His former dragon gurgled an affirmative and buzzed away. Sleuther leapt into the air. There were lots of dragons being released from the ships; a species he and Mala didn’t recognise, with large sails on their backs, blunt horns and lumpy chins. The dragons were also clad in armour plating; the metal glinted harshly in the moonlight.

The armoured dragons flew towards the village, but rather than attack in midair as expected, they instead landed on the ground and charged towards the village. “Go!” urged Dagur; Sleuther dived and blasted the nearest one in the face, but he couldn’t be everywhere at once and already houses were getting smashed to pieces. It was fortunate indeed that the villagers had been evacuated so quickly and thoroughly.

“Where in the name of Hel’s” - Dagur never finished his oath, for at last the vanguard arrived. The Great Protector flew in with a mighty bellow, with every other Gronckle on the island following their Queen’s lead. “What took you so long?” he demanded of Shattermaster, who was now flying alongside them, and received a snort in reply. 

“Look out!” yelled Mala; both dragons dodged away from an armoured one charging towards them. The helmet affixed to it had an axe jutting from the snout, and it swung around to charge at another Gronckle, who didn’t get out of the way fast enough. The poor dragon was impaled and roughly flung aside to the ground with a tattered wing. 

Sleuther pounced on the offender and stabbed one of his three stingers into its belly. Then the dragon roared and bucked him off, but the paralysing venom would take effect soon enough. The Great Protector pinned two more down, keeping the horde at bay with blasts of molten magma in their path, whilst her subjects spat gobbets of lava and” bludgeoned the intruders with clubbed tails, trying to overwhelm them all. 

In the midst of the chaos, Throk led the rest of the Defenders in putting out fires and trying to subdue the intruders. Forcing sage fruit down their throats did little good as they just spat it back out again, and though Sleuther flew around as fast as he could, there were just too many attackers for him to subdue every single one all by himself. 

The corner of a house exploded nearby, sending chunks of scorching debris in all directions. A jagged shard was hurled right at Mala’s neck, but Dagur stuck out his arm to catch it, and the wreckage embedded itself in his bicep. “Argh!” He plucked it out, face contorted in a grimace. That stung so much... _ wait.  _ “That’s it!” Dagur cried aloud, struck with inspiration at last. “Sleuther, find Throk, hurry! I’ve had an idea!” 

When they reached him, the guard captain and several other Defenders were pulling off the armour from yet another intruder, who was being pinned down by the Great Protector. Dagur called down to them, “We need to unleash the Speed Stingers! So long as we can keep these ones grounded, they’ll get paralysed and stop attacking.” 

Her husband was not renowned for thinking through consequences, so Mala asked him, “how do we keep the Stingers from paralysing and attacking our own, as well?”

Dagur winced. “Er, I hadn’t gotten that far ahead” he admitted, “but what choice do we have?” It was true; their choices were limited. Suddenly, the Great Protector looked back towards the summit of her volcano. The humans followed her gaze, and saw fire bursting out; the volcano was erupting! Before any one of them could say a word, she roared and heaved herself into the air, flying back towards the mountain. 

“Unleash the Stingers as your king demands!” Mala ordered, even as Sleuther flew after the Eruptodon. Some instinct told him that not all was as it seemed right now...

* * *

Lars hadn’t been thrilled about being near a volcano the last time he set foot on this island, and he was no more enthusiastic now. The flight over here, clinging to the back of a Singetail, had done no good for his nerves; if that wasn’t enough, the Eruptodon wasn’t even in the volcano! Instead it was helping to fight off the dragons they’d unleashed upon the village as a distraction. Oh, they were distracting it, alright! 

He wasn’t the only one frustrated by this error. “You told us that the Eruptodon could not leave this volcano” accused the lead flyer, as if all this was somehow Lars’ fault. 

“No, I said it couldn’t go far from its food source,” he corrected. “There’s a difference!” 

“Then we must lure the Eruptodon back here. Be ready, Grimborn,” he ordered Lars. “As soon as the beast is restrained, fire this crossbow and kill it. Succeed, or suffer.” Lars caught the bow and a sack of ammunition, filled with long sharp bolts. A single glance told him that these would be enough to kill a dragon, rather than merely bring it down. Lars slotted one in and discovered he could draw the string back with ease.

Meanwhile, the lead flyer forced his Singetail to take flight again. The rest of them followed suit, forcing the Singetails to hover in a circle below the volcano’s rim and cracking whips against their flanks. Unable to reach the abusers perched upon their backs, the Singetails instead spat and flung fireballs out of the volcano. Lars hid behind a boulder, watching as the Eruptodon approached, fooled by the fiery illusion. 

When she flew into the crater two Singetails circled her, and the flyers on their backs ensnared her in chains. She bellowed furiously and spat magma at them, but could not reach the chains that only tightened when the Singetails flew apart. Another chain became wrapped around her jaws, pinning them closed as she thrashed and bucked. 

Sleuther dived to the rescue, only to be forced back by two other Singetails. “Release our Great Protector now, or die a painful death!” Mala shouted at the flyers, but they ignored her. With one pair of Singetails harassing Sleuther and keeping him at bay, the other struggled to haul their captive towards the edge of the crater. Mala and Dagur saw a man emerge from behind a boulder, a large crossbow in his hands. 

Lars raised the weapon, took careful aim at the dragon, and pressed his finger on the trigger...only for a throwing knife to strike his hand, making him jerk in pain. The deadly bolt went awry, and pierced the flank of a Singetail who bellowed in pain. He fumbled for another bolt in the sack; before he could retrieve one, much less reload, he was kicked in the head. The crossbow fell from his grasp and skidded away. 

Whilst his wife dealt with that archer, Dagur and Sleuther would deal with these upstart flyers. “You just don’t know when to quit, do you?!” he yelled at them. The Triple Stryke gripped one man in his talons and tried to wrench him off the Singetail’s neck, but the flyers had anticipated this. The flyer remained held fast to the harness, though he screamed in agony as his arms were nearly wrenched from their sockets. 

Far from giving him an advantage, however, it proved to be a fatal weakness. Mala was not the one who had thrown that knife. Dagur’s aim, honed over decades, rang true, and soon a corpse hung limp from the Singetail’s back. No longer forced to stay near the volcano, the abused dragon fled; strangely enough, back towards the ships. 

“Throw that dragon in the water!” the lead flyer ordered. They could still drown it and salvage this mission, since Lars Grimborn was too incompetent to defeat a woman in close combat. The dragon rider urged his beast to attack; he did likewise, and the two blasts exploded in midair. That other Singetail was gone, but his own could hold the Triple Stryke at bay long enough for the other pair to drag the Eruptodon out to sea. 

When they tried to get past and kill the other flyers, he made his dragon fire a blast to throw them off course. Sleuther roared in frustration and tried to puncture him with a stinger, but the Singetail he crouched on darted out of reach. “Forget him!” Dagur snapped. “We need to save the Great Protector or the whole island will be doomed!” 

Sleuther dodged past the Singetail once more. Dagur glanced back to see if they were being pursued, but that flyer wasn’t going after them; he was going after Mala.  _ His wife or the Great Protector - he couldn’t reach both in time -  _ relief filled Dagur when he saw Shattermaster and Throk approaching the summit as fast as they could. 

A certain Triple Stryke slammed into the Singetail, jarring it so the blast went awry. “Nothing gets between me and my wife” Dagur snarled at the flyer, reaching over to slice his last dagger across the man’s throat. Meanwhile, Sleuther’s numbing stinger found its mark in the Singetail’s flank. The dragon broke away from his grasp and tried to flee the volcano; hopefully it would go down over land and not over the ocean. 

“The Eruptodon!” he cried out. Shattermaster and Throk had chased the other pair - Dagur hoped they weren’t too late. He looked down at Mala and his blood ran cold. 

* * *

On the ground, Lars was holding his own against Mala, but just barely. Their swords clashed with ringing blows that jarred every muscle. It wasn’t fair - she wielded two blades whilst he only had the one. She caught his weapon between both of hers and twisted it out of his grip, then punched him in the face. Thinking quickly, he grabbed her wrists before she could swing the swords to cleave his head from his shoulders. 

“I’ve had enough of this” he ground out, driving his knee up into her stomach. Mala staggered, and he threw her to the ground. Both swords fell from her grasp; he bent to grab one and stamp on the other. Just before he plunged it into her chest, in the corner of his eye he saw the Singetail about to fire on them and dived out of the way. 

Mala sprang to her feet, dodged the blast, and snatched up both of her swords. Thus disarmed, Lars scrambled to get away from her. The discarded crossbow was mere feet away; he grabbed it and stuck his hand into the bag of ammo at his hip, drawing blood. He slapped a bolt into the mechanism, primed it and spun to fire point blank - 

The bolt found its mark not in her flesh, but in Dagur, who had leapt from his dragon’s saddle with a fearsome battle cry. It pierced his chest plate as he fell to the ground. “ _ No! _ ” Mala screamed in horror, rushing to her husband’s side. Lars screamed and begged in vain as a furious Sleuther snatched him up and threw him into the volcano. “No, no, no, Dagur, don’t...stay awake. Stay with me” his wife begged. “ _ Please _ .” 

Dagur groaned, and coughed hard. Blood wetted his lips. “S-sorry, my beloved...I think…” - another struggle for breath.. “I think I might’ve gone too far, this time…” 

Tears filled her eyes. “You didn’t have to do that,” Mala insisted, taking his hand. “I know my duty. I would have died a hundred times over to help save our people.” 

In spite of the pain, Dagur managed a weak smile. “I’d die...a  _ thousand  _ times over...to save you. I know the - the Great Protector needed me, but I saw him about to f-fire at you and I...I couldn’t…” he grimaced through another spasm of pain. “I just...jumped.” 

His eyelids flickered. “No, no, you must stay awake, love. We’ll get you to the healers, they can save you” Mala insisted desperately, looking up at Sleuther. “Do something!” she begged him. Shattermaster landed nearby and Throk hurried over to them all. 

“The Great Protector is alive,” he revealed, “the enemy has retreated. Come, your majesty; we must get you to a healer.” Mala and he tried to lift Dagur onto Sleuther’s back, or maybe onto Shattermaster, but the slightest movement made him scream. 

“ _ Don’t!  _ Gods, just don’t. It’s….it’s too late” he slurred, “it’ll just...make things worse.” Every breath was agony. “I...I wish I c-could’ve seen Oswald...one last time...” A tear ran down his cheek. “T-tell him…I’m  _ proud _ , and I...I love the little guy...promise?” 

Mala pressed his hand to her cheek. “I promise,” she agreed. “I’ll tell him every day. I love you too.” She had to say it. Throk stepped back and saluted in respect; Sleuther and Shattermaster warbled their own mournful farewells. Dagur breathed out a last “ _ goodbye…”  _ His eyes fluttered closed. His laboured chest grew still. He was gone. 

* * *

At Dragon’s Edge, they had no ships on which to send off their dead, so the pyres were built on land, out of view of the sea. Everyone gathered round as Stoick offered prayers to the gods, sacrificed a bull and personally lit each one. As the crackling flames and smoke rose higher, the chief urged his people to keep their spirits up. 

“This is not a defeat! I swear that man for man, the losses of the armada far surpass our own. Tonight we rest, regroup. We honour the fallen, who gave their lives to strike a great blow against our enemy...and if that enemy strikes back, we will not yield!” 

“NO!” 

“We will stand our ground!” 

“YES!” 

“If we can stand up to three hundred years of dragon raids, we can stand up to this!”

After one last full throated cheer, they all set to work butchering the meat or pulling steins of ale. Everyone was starving. In the midst of it all, Snotlout guided Minden, her eyes covered with a blindfold, to sit down on an unburnt log. “Don’t you worry, babe” he told her. “Until your sight’s back, Snotlout’s not gonna leave your side.” 

Minden gave a small smile. “That’s very kind of you. But what if...oh, thank you” she said gratefully when he put his bearskin cloak around her shoulders. “Snotlout, you heard what Gothi said. What if my sight  _ doesn’t  _ come back? What do we do then?” 

She couldn’t see him grimace in worry. Snotlout forced confidence into his voice as he replied “it’s bound to come back eventually. This happened to Astrid and she got better. I said I wouldn’t leave your side until you got better, so if you don’t, then...well, then I guess I’m not going anywhere. You need something, just say the word, babe.” 

“I’ll hold you to that,” declared Minden. She heard footsteps, and turned her head towards the noise. It felt like her other senses had sharpened when one was lost. 

“Oh, not  _ you. _ ” She could hear the scowl in his voice. “What part of ‘stay away from my girl’ wasn’t clear?” he demanded. Minden now had a good idea of who it was. 

Sure enough, she then heard Viggo reply “I don’t want to fight. I came to apologise.” 

Minden spoke up before her boyfriend could. “Apology accepted. It wasn’t really your fault” she shrugged, “or Moonlight’s. It was an accident. Snotlout, please don’t argue” she admonished him, when he tried to splutter a protest. “If I want to forgive Viggo and Moonlight, then I can. It’s my choice, and I don’t need you to make it for me.” 

Blinded or not, she still had her pride. Snotlout admired that in a woman. “That’s hot. I mean-! That’s  _ not... _ a problem! Nope, no problem at all. Your choice, absolutely. Okay, great, she forgives you” he told Viggo, “now can you go away and leave us alone?” 

Reflexively, Minden rolled her eyes under the blindfold. “Snotlout, I don’t know about you, but I’m really hungry. Why don’t you go and find us both something to eat? I’ll stay right here until you come back, I promise” she smiled at him, or at least in his general direction. To top it all off, her stomach gurgled at just the right moment. 

“Yeah, okay. I’ll be right back” replied Snotlout, giving her hand a squeeze before standing up. Once she thought he was out of earshot, Minden called out, “Viggo?” 

To her relief he answered her. “Yes? You didn’t think I had already left, then.” 

“I wasn’t sure, but I never heard your footsteps walking away, so…” she shrugged and patted the log beside her. After a moment she heard him walk over and sit beside her. “Sorry about Snotlout. I think he just wants someone to be mad at.” 

“It’s fine. I expected him to lash out...I, er, didn’t expect you to forgive me, however. I mean, I thought you might, but I’d understand if it was too soon. That is, unless Gothi thinks that your sight could be restored by tomorrow?” he inquired of her tentatively. 

Minden sighed. “From what I gathered...she’s not hopeful. She said...well, Snotlout’s aunt Phlegma said that Gothi thinks I was too close to the brightness. All the healers said that I’m lucky it wasn’t a worse injury, being so near a lightning strike like that.” 

“Ah. This...might be irreversible, then. Minden, I realise that there’s nothing I can do to fix this, but if there’s any way that Moonlight and I can make it up to you, we will.” 

Reaching up to touch the blindfold delicately, Minden replied “Thanks. I don’t think there’s much you can...hm, well, I suppose you know how it feels a bit, don’t you?” 

“I’m only blind in one eye. It’s hardly the same situation as this” Viggo protested. Yet she was undeterred. “I see Snotlout coming back. I should go.” Minden heard him stand up. Silverwing nudged her gently. He cleared his throat and said, “Goodnight.” 

* * *

Viggo had told Moonlight to stay near Toothless whilst he went to speak with Minden. He found the Skrill again, curled up next to Toothless. Hiccup and Astrid were resting against the Night Fury’s side, who lay beside Stormfly. “We saved you some food,” Hiccup revealed, gesturing to Moonlight, who had a sandwich balanced on her back. 

He picked up the sandwich and leaned back against Moonlight. Whilst he devoured the bread and cheese, Hiccup explained “We were just talking about our next move.” 

“Hiccup’s been second guessing every decision he’s already made” Astrid reported.

Swallowing a mouthful, Viggo remarked “surely you’re not doubting  _ every  _ decision.” 

Before her fiancé could try and weasel out of it, Astrid went on, “he’s worried that we sunk ships with dragons on them, that Drago will attack the Wingmaidens next, or come here when we’re asleep and trap everyone inside the caves to starve us out.” 

“Thanks, Astrid.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

“Well,” Viggo shrugged, “they’re not exactly unfounded fears…” 

“Not. Helping” his apprentice deadpanned, making him chuckle. 

“Perhaps I can put your mind at ease on at least one count. There’s a good chance Bludvist doesn’t know where the Wingmaidens are” declared Viggo, “because Lars doesn’t know. Believe it or not, we have Krogan’s paranoia to thank. He suspected that the hunters from my village, including Lars, might still have loyalty to me as their chief. So as a precaution he never assigned those men alongside his dragon flyers.” 

“Yes, but the flyers knew about the Wingmaidens” Hiccup pointed out, “and if any of them survived...I just don’t wanna take the risk. I’d feel better if Minden went home, but I don’t know who else we could spare without compromising our own defences; and I have no idea what to do if they try to starve us out, except for, y’know, starve.” 

Astrid started putting another braid in his hair. “As you can see, he’s feeling maudlin.” 

With a sigh, Viggo remarked “you have enough on your shoulders without picking up yet another burden. Dwelling on what  _ might  _ go wrong is only going to stress you out.” 

Hiccup dragged a hand over his face. “I know, but we sent the kids there to keep them safe, and it might have just made things - mmph!” He was cut off when Astrid grabbed his face and pressed her lips to his. Viggo grinned in amusement and looked away to give them some privacy. He still had half a sandwich to finish, after all. 

Astrid pulled away, noting her betrothed had a dazed look on his face. “Feel better?” she inquired lightly. “Toothless, you think Hiccup is worrying too much, don’t you?” 

The dragon glanced back at them, and replied “Hiccup not-need worry. Baby dragons not-hear Alpha, remember? Humans with wings safe. Human hatchlings safe too.” 

Hiccup sighed in relief, more at ease at last. “Why didn’t you mention that before?” 

“You not-ask” was the blunt reply. Toothless closed his eyes again. His head was still aching from trying to push back against the Sea-Giants’ commands. That dragon was a coward; if he really wanted Toothless’ flock, he should offer a proper challenge, not lurk below the waves out of reach. He felt Hiccup stroke his scales gently and purred. 

“As for tonight, think of it this way. If Bludvist had wanted to, he’d have pursued and picked us off in the retreat. The armada wasn’t far from Dragon’s Edge; should they attack anytime soon, our sentries will see them coming.” Viggo smirked. “If the alarm is raised in the next five minutes, you have my permission to say ‘I told you so’.” 

That remark got a laugh out of the young couple. Hiccup agreed not to worry so much, even if Astrid knew how he felt. They had to stay vigilant, just not paranoid.   


* * *

Drago could have ordered a pursuit, and he knew it, but he’d felt no need. This was the third time that these Berkians, who thought of themselves as mighty warriors, had fled like cowards. Their retreat pleased Drago. It told him they were scared, and it meant they would be cornered. It also gave his men time to get their act together. 

Though perhaps the ships were unnecessary. Drago’s informant had described this island to him; it was more than large enough for the dragons in his army to land if they had to. “Kill any dragon too injured to fly” he ordered. “They’re of no use to us.” 

Keeping them alive and tending to their wounds would only be a waste of resources. Besides, they’d soon be replaced. It was only a matter of time before the Night Fury, which Drago suspected was the leader of this new flock, could no longer resist the Bewilderbeast’s commands. Once that dragon surrendered, the rest would follow. 

In the meantime, Drago would rendezvous with the portion of his fleet he’d sent to deal with these ‘Defenders of the Wing’. Let the Berkians think themselves safe; it wouldn’t be long before they were slaughtered or in chains, along with their allies. 

Leaving the rest of the fleet behind with orders to approach the island but not attack, he had the Bewilderbeast tow his flagship west. Before they were even halfway, the lookouts spotted an approaching Singetail. Knowing it to be one of the flyers, Drago allowed it to land on the deck. “Well? Has the tribe been destroyed?” he demanded. 

The flyer dismounted and bowed. “Grimborn lied to us, sir. That tribe had far more dragons than he claimed, and the Eruptodon was not docile at all. We managed to capture it, but it summoned the rest of them - it must be that flock’s leader - to its aid.” 

Drago’s jaw clenched, though he did not lose his temper. “Where is Grimborn now?” 

“Dead, sir. As are the other flyers. The fleet withdrew to decide on the next course of action, and I was sent ahead to report our...our failure.” The flyer drew himself up and declared, “if the only punishment worthy of such a failure is my death, then so be it.” 

Bold words, yet despite his threats Drago was not  _ actually  _ in the habit of executing his men for the slightest failure. If that were the case, he’d lose soldiers faster than he could replace them. The flyer knew this and took a gamble, but was relieved when Drago answered “No, I still have a use for you. Return to that fleet and give them orders to rejoin the armada. I shall come and deal with these Defenders...personally.” 

* * *

Much later that night, long after the funeral pyres had burned down to embers, one of the people on sentry duty called out “There’s a dragon coming!”, waking everyone up. 

Naturally people misheard him; there were cries of “Dragons!” and “Drago’s coming!” before Stoick yelled at everyone to calm down. It was only one dragon, coming from the west, and as it grew closer Heather recognised the silhouette. “It’s just Sleuther!” 

She hurried forwards to greet her brother, and her friends weren’t far behind. Sleuther landed at the edge of the camp. “Nice of you to join us...Throk?” Heather asked in surprise, the grin on her face falling away when he dismounted. “Where’s Dagur? Has something happened to him?” she demanded. Dread trickled down her spine. 

Throk bowed deeply to her. “Chieftess Heather” he said, formal as ever, yet his voice was tinged with something else...grief? “It pains me to be the bearer of distressing news...and I offer you my deepest condolences.” His words made Heather recoil a step. “I wish I didn’t have to tell you this, but your brother, King Dagur...is dead.” 

Everyone gasped or flinched, or both. Heather shook her head. “No...it can’t be….” 

Sleuther crooned, and spoke in Dragonese, a rare moment for him. “Is-true. I kill Dagur’s killer” he revealed, as if trying to reassure her. When she looked at Throk, he gave a solemn nod. Heather turned to the others, eyes prickling with unshed tears. 

Without a word, Fishlegs came forwards to embrace her, followed by Astrid, Hiccup, Minden, Snotlout, Ruffnut and Tuffnut. All of them offered a shoulder to cry on. Stoick, Gobber and Viggo glanced at one another, expressions grim. At last, Heather lifted her tear-stained face from Fishlegs’ shoulder and asked Throk, “what  _ happened _ ?” 

“Our sentries saw enemy ships approaching, just as we were warned. Fortunately the village was evacuated before they sent dragons to destroy it; but that was just a distraction. Their real goal was to kill the Great Protector. Your brother and Queen Mala went to her rescue; the Queen was fighting a hunter on the ground when the coward shot at her with a crossbow, and Dagur jumped into the arrow’s path.” 

So her brother had died in battle, and for someone he loved; yet knowing this didn’t make the loss any easier to bear. “I just...I can’t believe he’s...I didn’t even get to say  _ goodbye _ ” she said helplessly, haltingly. They knew the risks that came with war, but for all his faults, for all she’d once despised him, Heather had grown used to the idea that her brother would just...be there. They were all the family each other had left. 

Now he was gone. “We haven’t held a funeral for him yet,” explained Throk. “Queen Mala asked me to bring you the news, and invite you to our island for...the last rites.” 

Heather rubbed her eyes and nodded, before turning to Hiccup. “Will you come with me?” she asked him. “I know….I know Dagur would have wanted you to be there.” 

Hiccup didn’t even have to think about it. “Of course I’ll come. What are friends for?” he asked rhetorically, and Heather wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace. 

Vorg stepped out from the crowd and cleared his throat. “The Berserkers will come too, Chief Heather” he offered. “Figure we oughta pay our respects to a former chief.” 

“I appreciate that,” she replied. “We should get going; the sooner we leave, the sooner we’ll get back.” Heather proceeded to climb into Windshear’s saddle. Hiccup and the B-Team made to do likewise, but they were interrupted once more by Viggo. 

“Hold on,” he called to Hiccup. “You should leave Toothless here. Then if Drago does try to attack the Edge, he can help the rest of our dragons resist the Bewilderbeast.” 

Hiccup saw the sense in that, and dismounted. “He’ll need someone to ride him, or  _ he _ won’t be able to resist.” Toothless huffed and nudged him. “It’s okay, I’ll be fine. Viggo’s right, you’re needed here. Keep an eye on things until I get back, alright?” The dragon then conceded. Hiccup looked at his father. “I promise we won’t be long.” 

“Go on, son” agreed Stoick. “This is something you and Heather need to do. We’ll figure out who can ride Toothless whilst you’re gone, don’t worry.” Hiccup nodded and climbed up behind Heather on Windshear’s neck. Everyone nearby backed away as the Razorwhip spread her sharp wings, following Sleuther and Throk into the air. 

* * *

Most of the journey was passed in silence, as no one had the inclination to speak above the wind. Hiccup wondered if he ought to say something to comfort Heather, but what could he tell her? If he was being honest, the truth hadn’t quite sunk in for him yet either. It just all felt so...surreal. Like he was half-expecting to wake up again. 

He knew deep down that there was nothing he could have done; no way he could have known. Hiccup felt guilty nonetheless. Perhaps because there was a time when news of Dagur’s death would have filled him with relief, not grief. They had gone from being mortal enemies to...well, Hiccup wasn’t quite sure, but something like family. 

He bit his lip, and hesitantly asked, “um, Heather? D’you...want to talk about it?” 

A long moment’s silence, and then… “It’s like I’m cursed,” she replied. That wasn’t the answer he’d been expecting, but Hiccup wisely kept his mouth shut. “I just lose  _ everyone _ , and I’m never there to...my mother died when I was just a baby. My father died on Vanaheim, alone. I lost my adoptive parents too. Now the only living family I had left is  _ gone _ . I just...don’t understand why the gods hate me so much” she sighed. 

There was nothing he could say to make this right, but Hiccup still needed to try. “I’m sorry” he murmured. “I know this must be so hard for you...but, you haven’t lost  _ all  _ of your family. Dagur...might be gone, but Oswald is still here, and - and so am I.” She looked over her shoulder at him, and he gave a small smile. “You’re not alone, okay?” 

Heather sighed, and returned the smile, albeit fleetingly. “Thanks for coming with me. I did think about asking Fishlegs, but...I sort of just knew that Dagur would’ve wanted you there” she admitted. For a while they lapsed back into silence.  _ He’s right about one thing,  _ Heather mused.  _ I still have my nephew. Please, gods, don’t take him too.  _

Windshear and Sleuther reached Caldera Cay just as the eastern horizon began to lighten. Very few buildings were left standing or unburnt; already the Defenders were hard at work chopping down timber to rebuild with. Mala came forwards to welcome them. “I’m glad you came. I just wish it could have been...in better circumstances.” 

Mala had put on a brave face, but faint tear marks were still visible on her cheeks. Heather embraced her in law, and noted a second absence. “Where’s Oswald?” she asked, brow furrowed. Already her heart was filled with dread, fearing the worst. 

To her relief, Mala replied “he’s safe. Whilst the rest of us rebuild, I sent those most in need of shelter - the children and elderly - to stay with the Wingmaidens. It hurts, not having my son here...or his father” she confessed, “but I must do what is best for my people. I know you’ll both understand. Come; all is prepared, but we waited for you.” 

She led them down a winding path to a beach on the eastern side of the island, looking out at the sunrise. Several Defenders were there as an honour guard for the funeral boat on the sand. It was filled with armour, weapons, offerings to the gods; everything that a soul departing to Valhalla would need in the next life. In the middle there lay a body shrouded in white, with Dagur’s favourite axe resting on the chest. 

Heather’s breath hitched at the sight. “Can - can I see him?” she asked suddenly. “Please. I need to see him.” Mala gave a nod, and gestured for the Defenders to give them space. Heather and Hiccup approached the funeral boat, and knelt beside it. She reached out a shaking hand to fold back the shroud...only to hesitate. Seeing her brother’s body would make this  _ real _ . Hiccup wordlessly took hold of her other hand. 

She squeezed it in turn, grateful, and took a deep breath. Then she pulled back the cloth and couldn’t suppress a shudder. Dagur’s eyes were closed, like he was merely sleeping, but his skin was deathly pale. There was no denying he had truly passed on. A man who had always seemed larger than life, in death he seemed...diminished. 

Her mouth pressed into a line; Heather felt as if there were no words worth speaking, yet still felt the urge to say  _ something.  _ “I’ll never…” she swallowed, “I’ll never forget you, Dagur. I should have said it when you could still hear me, but I’m  _ proud _ of you. For trying to be a better man. I promise to look after our people, and your son, my nephew. We’ll tell him about you. If it’s my last chance to say it...goodbye, brother.” 

Hiccup wiped away tears with the back of his hand. “Y’know, after everything...being enemies, and then allies...I never thought it would end like this,” he admitted. “I’m proud of you too, Dagur. You  _ changed.  _ This is how you’ll be remembered - as a hero. One of the bravest, most honourable warriors in the archipelago. Goodbye...brother.” 

The newly widowed Queen stepped forwards, and offered her last own goodbye. “Farewell, my love. I owe you my life, and you have my eternal gratitude. May the Valkyries welcome you” she prayed, “and guide you to the Hall of Valhalla. May they sing your name with love and fury, so that we may know you have taken your rightful place, at the table of kings. For you were our King, my husband, and a loving father.” 

Without a word, Heather carefully draped the shroud back over Dagur’s face. They both rose to their feet, and helped the guard of honour to carry the funeral boat on their shoulders, out into the shallows. They lowered it to the water and returned to shore, where Sleuther, Windshear and Shattermaster had set alight a small bonfire. 

Throk stepped forwards, head bowed in respect, with three bows and arrows in his hands. Mala reached out and took the first pair, Heather the second, and Hiccup took the last. The arrows were set alight; they drew back the string, and in unison, fired. 

As the floating pyre caught and burned, Dagur’s widow, his sister and his honorary brother laid down their bows and clasped hands, united by their grief and mourning. 


	11. Noble Sacrifice

On the way back up to the village, or what was left of it, Heather spoke to Hiccup. “I’ve been thinking” she told him, “I want to stay here with the B-Team to defend the island, and help Mala’s people rebuild. I know you wanted us to help fight Drago, and it’s not that I don’t want to help, it’s just - they need it more right now” she explained. 

He sighed and answered, “yes, but so do the Wingmaidens, if Thor forbid, Drago found them. The children are there. Besides, the Defenders can’t be completely defenceless, or they wouldn’t have...hm. Actually, Mala, how  _ did  _ you fend off the dragons that attacked you? Sleuther couldn’t have fought them off by himself. Err, no offence” Hiccup quickly said to the Triple Stryke, who snapped his tails indignantly. 

“The Great Protector is Queen of the dragons here” replied Mala. “Just as Toothless is the Queen of your flock. She rallied the Gronckles; they’re tenacious when they need to be, as you know. It was” - Mala stopped, cleared her throat, and tried again. “It was Dagur’s idea to set our island’s pack of Speed Stingers on the intruders.” 

Heather revealed, “My tribe was attacked by Nadders, but we managed to subdue them, and they weren’t so aggressive once the hunters forcing them to attack us were out of the way. Are the armoured dragons that attacked your island still here?” 

“A few” Mala nodded. “We’ve been feeding them sage fruit to keep them calm. I can take you to them...we don’t actually know what their species is called.” She led them to a place where several dragons, now stripped of armour, were chained to stakes. “It hurts to chain them up, but if they ran amok again...do you recognise the species?” 

“I think so” replied Hiccup. “Viggo mentioned them. They’re called Thunderclaws.” 

Mala was about to ask if Viggo had told him of any weaknesses these dragons had, but before she could they were interrupted - by the warning horn. Another attack was coming. Heather climbed into Windshear’s saddle and took off to investigate, whilst Hiccup looked around for Toothless, only to remember that his dragon was absent. 

Moments later, Windshear landed again. “Hiccup, we have a massive problem. Drago Bludvist is here” warned Heather. “His flagship is heading straight for the island.” 

Immediately he turned to Mala. “Your majesty, we don’t have much time,” Hiccup urged her. “All of the dragons on Caldera Cay need a rider; it’s the best way to help distract them from the Bewilderbeast. Otherwise it will command them to attack us.” 

There was no time or need to argue. “Does that include the Great Protector?” she asked, just to double check, and he nodded. “You and Throk take Sleuther and warn her, have her summon the Gronckles for us to ride” ordered Mala. “The rest of you, spread the word” she prompted the honour guard, who hurried off to alert everyone. 

Hiccup and Throk rode Sleuther up to the crater; he landed near the edge of it and roared. When the Great Protector emerged, Throk dismounted as Sleuther told her in dragon-tongue what was going on. She promptly doused Throk with her heat proof saliva and crouched down to let him clamber onto her back; he gripped one of her stone-like protrusions to secure himself. Then she rose up and bellowed, “ **COME!** ” 

The call echoed across the island, and from all over, Gronckles answered it. They followed her to the destroyed village, and Defenders hurried forwards to climb onto their knobbly backs. Further out to sea came a monstrous roar; another command of “ **COME** !” The riderless dragons pupils turned to slits; they flew towards the vessel, with the Gronckles summoned back by the Great Protector in a mental tug of war. 

“Help them!” Heather ordered her Berserkers, who had their dragons carry Defenders up to the hovering Gronckles. Each dragon then returned to pick up another soldier. 

Sleuther flew over to Shattermaster and Windshear. “Mala, I’m sorry, but we can’t stay here!” Hiccup urged her. “We’ll be outnumbered! There’s a volcano on the Edge, your Eruptodon won’t starve!” he insisted. Mala grimaced, torn between retreat and defending her home...yet the village was wrecked, and everyone worth protecting had been sent away. There was no honour in risking one's life for an empty island. 

Sleuther and Shattermaster flew over to the Eruptodon. “Throk, we’re evacuating to Dragon’s Edge!” Mala warned him, even as Shattermaster explained the same to the Great Protector. He didn’t bother mentioning that it was his idea. Throk nodded in agreement; he probably wouldn’t argue with Mala even if she said the sea was red. 

Protector spread her stubby wings and rose laboriously into the air. “ **FOLLOW** ” she commanded her subjects, all of whom now had a human on their backs. They did not feel as much of a compulsion to obey, but followed nonetheless, trusting their Queen. They gathered around her like scaly worker bees, all heading eastwards, but then… 

Another deafening roar echoed out from the ship, or rather from the Bewilderbeast towing it. “ **ATTACK** !” he ordered. The ship released Thunderclaws, even a Singetail, some clad in armour, others with axe-tipped helmets, and all commanded to kill. 

Just as Hiccup feared, they were outnumbered, and he knew that they wouldn’t be able to fend off such a relentless onslaught. Not for the first time did he wish the other riders had come, though they couldn’t have known Drago would attack here first. But then Heather and Windshear turned around. “Go!” she yelled, “we’ll hold them off!” 

“Sleuther, after her!” Hiccup urged, clinging on tight as the Triple Stryke twisted in midair. Windshear was already flaming at the eye slits in the Thunderclaw’s helmets, blinding them, and slashing her barbed tail at their wings. A couple tumbled down to the ocean, unable to fly, but the rest ganged up on Windshear. Sleuther darted in and punctured their wings with all three of his stingers, making them bellow in agony. 

“We can’t fight them!” Hiccup shouted at Heather as their dragons raced away from another cluster of Thunderclaws. “We’re outnumbered and you know it! So do they!” 

Heather retorted “I had to do  _ something _ ! They’ll catch up and the Eruptodon is” - she never finished, because at that moment the dragon in question roared out another command. “ **FOLLOW SHATTERMASTER** ” she ordered, then “ **SLEUTHER COME** .” 

Obediently, the Triple Stryke raced over. He was not truly part of her flock, and did not need to follow her commands, but he respected her as a Queen. “Take friend” she prompted, rolling an eye up to the top of her head. “Friend must-go. I must-stay.” 

“What?!” Throk demanded, “no! You can’t sacrifice yourself - we still need you!” 

The Eruptodon didn’t listen. She made her scales grow hotter, glowing from within; too hot for him to hold on, even coated in her heatproof saliva. Throk flinched, and she bucked so that he tumbled off, only to be snatched out of the air by Sleuther. “Is okay” she rumbled, slowing to a hover. “Not-can outfly enemy. Must-protect my flock.” 

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Throk saluted her. “It’s been an honour, my friend.” 

She bowed her head to him briefly, and then charged at the approaching horde. Their dragons fled, but the riders looked back, watching in dismay as the Great Protector was swarmed by the Thunderclaws, biting and clawing at her. She had scales thick enough to withstand lava; she spat that lava at them, driving a few back each time. 

There came another roar, the Thunderclaws and Singetail fell back. The Protector, her wings torn, flinched and snarled. She flew forwards, dropping lower and lower, until she closed her wings and plunged into the ocean, right where the Bewilderbeast lurked. Clouds of steam burst into the air, obscuring the ship, the water roiling. They watched from afar, helpless, as a deluge of ice suddenly erupted from the depths. 

* * *

The armoured dragons continued to pursue them, especially that Singetail, but the Great Protector’s sacrifice had bought them time. They banded together so as not to give lone targets, and finally the Thunderclaws were recalled, or gave up the chase. 

When at last they reached Dragon’s Edge, it was alarming to see the armada had come so close. Yet they were not attacked on the way in as they dreaded. Sleuther, Windshear, Shattermaster and the rest were exhausted. They all but fell onto solid ground, and their human companions, most of whom were unused to riding, didn’t fare much better. Several of them collapsed, legs shaking, and began to weep. 

Hiccup had barely stepped away from Sleuther before Toothless came bounding over. “Hey, bud! Oh, I missed you too.” He embraced the Night Fury, and then went to embrace Astrid, who had just dismounted from Stormfly. “I missed the both of you.” 

Everyone gathered round; his father and fiancé both stared at him, questioning and worried. Before they could ask, or Hiccup could start to explain, Mala came forwards to address the chief. “My people seek refuge and sanctuary with yours, Chief Stoick.” 

“Of course” he agreed without hesitation, “but what happened? Were you attacked?” 

“Drago” Hiccup rasped out, throat dry. He cleared it and explained, “He showed up on his flagship, with the Bewilderbeast. We didn’t try to fight, we just got everyone onto a dragon - but they sent these Thunderclaws after us, that would have killed us if…if…” 

“If not for the Great Protector” finished Throk. His hands were curled into fists. “She gave her life to distract them, whilst the rest of us fled like  _ cowards _ ” he growled out. 

Mala laid a hand on his shoulder. “It wasn’t cowardice.” Her voice shook. “She knew she couldn’t outrun them. She wanted us to escape. If we had tried to fight, and died, then her sacrifice would have been for nothing.”  _ Just like my husband’s sacrifice.  _

Throk frowned, and looked at Hiccup. “You said the dragons needed a rider to stop them from being controlled” he pointed out. “The Protector didn’t need me with her.” 

“She didn’t want you to die with her,” Hiccup corrected. “It  _ did _ try to command her; when the rest of them held back. I think...I think she sacrificed herself so she wouldn’t be forced to turn on us. On you guys.” He shook his head, helpless. “I’m  _ so _ sorry.” 

Silence fell as his words sunk in. Heather broke it, finally, by asking, “What about the armada? Did they attack you guys? Are we attacking them?” She sounded hopeful. 

Much to her disappointment (not that she’d admit it), Stoick replied, “it’s more of a stalemate for now; but don’t worry. There’s sentries keeping an eye on them, and that Scauldron friend o’ Ruffnut’s, we got him to break their rudders, so they can’t sneak off with any of the dragons they’ve captured” he explained. Then he turned to Mala. 

“Where’s your son?” he asked first. She told him, adding that the ones who sailed the children and elderly there had already returned. “Good. We have plenty of food, and we’ll find room somehow. We need all the riders we can get; would your people be willing to sit on dragonback again and fight alongside us?” he asked, as a formality. 

It was a formality because the blazing expression in Mala and Throk’s eyes left no doubt as to where they stood on the matter. “We have already been forced to leave our island, without the chance to strike a blow against the one responsible. Give us another, and the Defenders will fight on dragonback alongside you” she declared.

Stoick gave a solemn nod. “Then we’ll prepare at once, and make that armada regret skulking this close to the Edge. Hiccup, get Gobber - they’ll need saddles. Astrid, Heather, round up the other riders and get that armour on your dragons” he ordered. 

The others nodded, but before they could get moving, a roar came from the nearest sentry. Hiccup vaulted into Toothless’ saddle and the pair flew up to confirm Drago’s flagship was fast approaching. “There’s still time,” insisted Stoick. “Hurry, all of you!” 

* * *

Elsewhere on the island, Snotlout was trying to convince Minden to return home. “I know you wanna help, but it’s not safe. When Drago gets here...and hey, besides, someone’s gotta break the news to ‘em about the Defenders, right?” he pointed out. 

She pursed her lips and wished fervently she could glare at him. Or even just  _ see  _ him. “So I go home, and then what? Sit around there being a burden on them too?” 

Throwing his hands in the air, Snotlout exclaimed, “Oh for the love of Thor! You’re not a burden, you’re just...a bit incapacitated. I’m sure it’s just temporary, it’s gotta be…” Even now he refused to believe that there was nothing to be done, that she was just  _ blind _ and that was it. Astrid had recovered just fine, hadn’t she? So why not Minden? 

Minden couldn’t see his worried grimace, but she could hear the waver in his voice. Hesitantly, she reached out a hand in his general direction, wiggling her fingers until he noticed and took it. “I’d like to believe that too” she murmured, “but I - we have to face the truth sooner or later. I’m  _ crippled,  _ Snotlout. I can’t even see, much less fight, or help raise baby Razorwhips.” She sniffed, and stinging tears wet the bandages. 

Snotlout gulped and squeezed her hand. “Wait, no. Don’t cry” he protested weakly. “I don’t - I mean, well, you - but I’m sure we can”- He cut himself off. What could he

say? If this really was irreversible...not even Hiccup could make a prosthetic for being  _ blind.  _ “I just don’t want you to be hurt more” he finished at last. It felt rather pathetic. 

With a sigh, Minden trailed her fingers up his arm to his shoulder, and then stroked his cheek. “I’m gonna miss being able to see your handsome face” she remarked. 

_ She thinks I’m handsome?  _ Snotlout cleared his throat and hastily said “Oh, yeah. It’s a tragedy you have to miss out on seeing all  _ this.  _ Just so you know, I’m flexing” he informed her, and she smiled a little. “So, will you go back? It’d make me feel better.” 

“I know I ought to” she admitted, “but I already feel so  _ helpless.  _ I hate the thought of you fighting and getting hurt, or worse, and me not being here. Or even knowing.” 

He scoffed. “Please, you think those hunters can get the best of me and Hookfang? We’re a well oiled ass kicking machine. You got nothing to worry about, babe.” She smiled again, a little wider this time, and he congratulated himself on cheering her up. 

Then she pouted - no wait, she was puckering her lips, leaning forwards…Snotlout grinned and closed the gap between them. At least she still wanted to kiss him. A dragon roared nearby; Minden broke away, turning her head in the general direction of the sound. “Sorry to interrupt, but Drago’s coming and we need to get ready to fight  _ now _ ” Astrid warned from the saddle, before she and Stormfly banked away. 

“Finally!” he crowed. All this watching and waiting had been driving him crazy - that wasn’t how a  _ Viking  _ should fight a war. “You gotta go quick, babe” he told Minden, “and make sure you aren’t followed. I mean, tell Silverwing to...y’know what I mean.” 

She nodded, and he helped her climb into the saddle. “That’s it, put your hands here. Don’t worry about me, I got this. See you after we’ve kicked Drago’s butt” he grinned. Minden smiled. Snotlout moved back to give Silverwing room to take off, and once they were gone, he swung himself up onto Hookfang’s neck. “C’mon, Fangster!” 

* * *

There wasn’t time to make saddles for the Defenders, only to fasten rope around the Gronckles bellies for them to hold onto. A few of the more conservative ones balked at the idea of riding a dragon into battle, not out of fear but their long held taboo against using dragons for war or beasts of burden. Mala scolded them, insisting that desperate times called for desperate measures, and these were desperate times.

“We can’t just throw you into the thick of it,” declared Hiccup, “but do you think you could keep the Bewilderbeast busy? We have boulders set aside for the catapults, Fishlegs can show you; dropping those on its head ought to distract it enough.” Mala agreed on her people’s behalf. Throk looked ready to take the leviathan on alone. 

They couldn’t hear it under the water, but the Bewilderbeast must have commanded his own flock to  **ATTACK** , and the hunters were releasing armoured dragons from the ships. Toothless launched into the air and screeched a command of “ **DEFEND** !” From all across the island, the riderless dragons rose in a swarm of wings and fangs and claws, charging forwards courageously to grapple with the enemy-intruder flock. 

All of the Gronckle riders were on Bewilderbeast distraction duty, with the A-Team (what was left of it) and B-Team providing cover fire. That left the other riders to take on the ships and free any dragons they had captured. Terrors of all kinds darted in to deal with the archers, snatching bows out of hands, whilst Nadders dived to blast and impale the ballistae from above. Finally, Zipplebacks strafed the decks with a  _ bang.  _

With the hunters and weaponry taken care of, they were free to break open the traps, or get below and open the cages. It was hectic, as all battles were, but so long as they kept their heads the riders could handle things. The ships on the outskirts tried to pull away, but without their rudders they floundered, crashing into each other. 

The  _ Conqueror  _ lurked further out to sea, squat and ugly. The Gronckles were forced to carry their heavy loads a longer distance, and when they reached it, an irresistible force, like  _ denial  _ made manifest, made them recoil. The boulders were dropped, not on deck as they had planned, but into the sea; and not all of them landed on target. 

“What’s the matter with them?” Throk demanded, as Shattermaster shook his head vigorously. Then his pupils narrowed, and all of the Gronckles scattered just before  _ ice,  _ massive shards of it, burst out from under the water. “Mother of Odin!” he cried. 

Fishlegs wasn’t faring much better. “Oh Thor, oh gods - that was  _ way _ too close. It’s okay, Meatlug...the Bewilderbeast must be rejecting our dragons somehow, keeping us from getting too close” he explained, still shaken. The ice had nearly  _ killed _ them. 

They regrouped above the flagship, out of the ballista’s range. “Look!” cried Vorg, pointing down at the prow. Those huge chains leading from it down to the water were being cast off, left to drop with great splashes into the waves. Then Drago summoned the Bewilderbeast, and stepped up onto the bulkhead, then walked right up its tusk. 

They tried to make their dragons attack Bludvist whilst he was vulnerable, but no matter what the Gronckles just wouldn’t, or maybe couldn’t, go near. When Drago was on its head, amongst that crown of spines, the Bewilderbeast sank back into the water until only its spikes were visible. They could see its wake as it surged towards the island. “Oh no. No, no! W-We gotta warn Hiccup and the others. Meatlug, hurry!” 

* * *

The armada was in disarray thanks to their earlier sabotage, and almost every trap had been destroyed. So many dragons were injured or dead, which broke Hiccup’s heart, but he dared to believe - just for a moment - that they could turn this around. 

It only took that one flicker of hope for the Norns to quench. Near the cliffs, Stoick was fighting Alvin on his new red and black Rumblehorn, their dragons blasting or ramming head on whilst the two warriors swung battleaxes at the other’s head. “Is that the best you’ve got?!” Stoick taunted. “You treacherous son of a halfwit troll!” 

Alvin’s eyes narrowed, insulted, and he hurled a spare hammer at Stoick’s head. It was dodged easily, but at the same moment that scarlet Rumblehorn fired a blast that struck the Berkian chief - though thankfully not straight on - and sent him flying out of the saddle. He fell in an arc towards the ground, then tumbled and skidded to a halt. 

Skullcrusher landed moments later, protecting his fallen rider. Alvin urged his dragon forwards to finish the job, but then Gobber caught up at last, and Grump’s clubbed tail sent them both reeling. “ _ Dad _ !” yelled Hiccup, having seen his father go down from afar. He scrambled out of the saddle as soon as Toothless landed and threw himself down beside Stoick, pressing an ear to the large man’s chest to listen for a heartbeat. 

When he heard it thumping, he sagged in relief. “Dad? Dad, you gotta wake up. Dad,  _ please _ ” he begged to no avail; Stoick was unconscious, blood trickling down his face. 

“We gotta get him to Gothi, lad. Up you get now” urged Gobber, shaking his shoulder. Stormfly landed nearby and Astrid came running. Together the three of them heaved Stoick’s heavy form onto Grump’s armour. They should have had slings prepared for the injured, he was so  _ stupid,  _ rushed or not he should have thought this through… 

Toothless stiffened, and moved with a snarl towards the edge of the cliffs, as did Stormfly and Skullcrusher. From below there came a rumble, the sound of sloshing water - and the Bewilderbeast reared above them, casting a huge shadow as it braced its paws against the cliff and locked eyes with a furiously growling Toothless. 

Drago was on its head, braced against a spike. He jabbed that bullhook at its eyelid and then at Toothless. The Bewilderbeast’s pupils narrowed as it  _ glared.  _ “ **OBEY** .” The command was so  _ loud _ ; humans and dragons alike flinched. Except that the dragons didn’t stop, shaking their heads vigorously and screeching as if in pain. 

“No, no, no, no!” Hiccup cried in horror. “He’s taking them over - Toothless, you gotta fight it!” He stumbled forwards to try and snap his dragon out of the control. Toothless lurched away from him. Hiccup gathered himself to lunge at the saddle, but then the Night Fury straightened abruptly and turned on him, pupils turned to narrow slits. He froze on the spot, heart racing. “No, no, Toothless it’s  _ me _ , Hiccup, your best friend!” 

At the sound of his voice, the Fury’s pupils flickered. “That’s it, you can resist. Come back to me, please, I can’t” - his breath hitched, “I can’t lose you too. Please, I need you, you’re my best friend and this isn’t you, he’s  _ making  _ you do it, you need to fight him…” Hiccup didn’t dare even glance to see how Astrid and Gobber were faring, he just kept rambling, trying to coax Toothless back from the Bewilderbeast’s control. 

It wasn’t working, Toothless was charging a plasma blast, he was going to die and this was all his fault, he’d doomed everyone...then suddenly, fast as lightning, Moonlight dropped out of the sky and pinned Toothless to the ground. He flinched back and looked up at Viggo, who said urgently, “ _ all _ the dragons are attacking us.” 

Except for the ones with riders, of course. Far above their heads, Drago scowled in frustration - but no matter. He jabbed the Bewilderbeast again and ordered “Kill!” Or he would have, but just as he’d drawn breath to shout the order, deep instincts made him throw himself aside moments before a lava blast from a Gronckle struck him. 

“You leave them  _ alone,  _ you horrible  _ bully _ !” His arrival was just the distraction they needed; Toothless’ pupils widened, and then Moonlight stepped off him at last. 

“Oh, thank Thor” Hiccup gasped in relief, scrambling into the saddle. Wait, someone had to ride Skullcrusher before - no, it was too late, the Bewilderbeast -  _ coward  _ \- was heading back towards the ships, ordering all dragons to “ **FOLLOW** ”. Ever since it had taken over the Queen, however briefly, it could now command all riderless dragons. 

The other four dragons helped carry his father back to the caverns. “ **RETREAT** !” Toothless bellowed. He was every bit as shaken as Hiccup. The rest of the dragons didn’t need to be told twice - many had already been fleeing when their fellow flock mates turned on them. Once everyone was inside, the doors were closed behind them. Toothless fired a blast at the ceiling, bringing stalactites crashing down. 

* * *

“What happened?!” 

“They just turned on us!” 

“Has Drago won?!” 

“The chief is down!” 

All these panicked shouts and more filled the cavern in a jumbled, discordant mess. Toothless cut through it with a roar. Hiccup stood on his back. “Everyone calm down!” 

He had to think fast. “Look, we can’t panic right now. First we get the food and livestock from beneath the training ring and into the caverns with us, then block off that passage. We can’t risk them breaking into the dome and destroying our rations.” 

Mala came forwards and responded, “fear not, Hiccup, my people are already on it.” 

Relieved, he gave her a grateful nod and looked at Fishlegs, but before he could say a word the other man was rambling. “I’m so sorry, we tried to distract it like you said but it made our dragons recoil and then they let it loose and I was trying to warn”- 

“Fishlegs! It isn’t your fault, it’s - it’s mine” Hiccup admitted. Gods, that was painful to say. “I got out of the saddle, that’s why Toothless was taken over. If it weren’t for your distraction just then, he might have...you saved our  _ lives _ ” he declared earnestly. 

“But what do we do now?” somebody in the crowd questioned. “We’re trapped!” 

Hiccup swallowed hard. “Just - just stay calm, and on your guard. Hopefully they’ll try to starve us out and not…” He couldn’t bring himself to voice the alternative. “But we won’t starve, okay, we just have to hold out as long as we can. There’s a trapdoor up there, but listen, we  _ cannot  _ use it unless we absolutely have to. It’s hidden from the outside, and if they find it...I don’t know if our dragons could hold all of theirs off.” 

The crowd shifted and muttered as his words sunk in. Then Gobber declared “it’s alright lad, Spitelout and I’ll get everyone sorted. Go to him” he prompted. Hiccup didn’t need telling twice. He dropped back into the saddle and Toothless padded swiftly to the triage area, where his aunt Phlegma -Spitelout’s sister - blocked their path. “I need to see my dad,” he insisted. “Is he alright? Will...will he make it?” 

Phlegma sighed. “He’s lucky the fall wasn’t from further up. As far as we can tell he should pull through, but he’ll be out of it for a while. He needs peace and quiet.” 

Hiccup nodded anxiously. “But I can still see him?” he begged, and she relented. He slipped off Toothless’ back, but the dragon stayed close and he kept a hand on that scaly head, just in case. He knelt beside his father and whispered “I’m sorry, dad. I think I really messed up...big surprise, I know. But I’ll figure out how to fix it, promise.” 

Tears filled his eyes and ran down his cheeks. “Please...please be okay. I-I’m not ready to…” Hiccup swallowed. “To say goodbye. Not yet. You rest, and - and I’ll keep everyone together. At least until Eret comes back with help. He will, he - he  _ has _ to.” 

Toothless crooned softly and nuzzled his rider. “So-sorry. Toothless so-sorry” he whimpered. “Should-have fought harder. Almost…” he trailed off, unable to bring himself to say it. Hiccup wrapped thin arms around his head and held on tight. When they finally managed to draw away from his father, Viggo was waiting for them. 

“Astrid asked me to check on you,” he explained. “How is your father?” 

Hiccup sniffed. “He’s in a coma, but...they think he’ll make it. Gods, I hope so…” 

Viggo looked sympathetic. “He will. Stoick is as strong as they come, I’m sure” - the breath was knocked out of him as Hiccup suddenly collided with his chest, burying his face in Viggo’s shoulder. Though caught off guard by the unexpected embrace, Viggo recovered and wrapped his arms around the young man, returning the hug. 

* * *

It was a bit of a squeeze to assign places for them all to take shelter in; the caves on this island were not as expansive as Berk’s. An unfortunate sheep was slain in order to bulk out the available rations. A few of the Hooligans grumbled about having to share their space between even more people, but Gobber quickly put an end to that. 

Heather was pleased to see her B-Team helping as well. She had an idea; it was the least she could do, and when the chance arose she brought it up. “I’ve been thinking” she began, as she and Mala sat together in one corner of the caverns. “When all this is over, if...if we make it out”, Heather made herself say, “I have a...a proposition.” 

Mala looked at her, curious, and asked, “what proposition would that be, Heather?” 

She took a deep breath and explained, “our tribes have been allied since you...you and my brother were wed.” Heather had to pause and collect herself. “And now that you’ve lost your island too...I want you to live on mine. You’d still lead your people, and I’d lead mine, but we’d be...very close neighbours. Um. What do you think?” 

After a while, Mala replied “I think it’s a very generous offer, but if we were to stay independent, we couldn’t share an island. However,” she went on, “perhaps our tribes should merge instead. Be united, and stronger. I think Dagur would’ve liked that.” 

“Yeah. I think he would.” Heather sniffed. “But what about the separation of powers?” 

“Hmm. That is a problem” admitted Mala. The merging of tribes was rare for this very reason; if both original leaders had or planned to have heirs, they’d both have a claim to the line of succession. Tribes would merge if they were conquered and their heirs killed, as Bludvist was attempting, but that was not what she and Heather wanted. 

Then the younger woman declared, “we’ll figure something out. The one thing I know for sure is that Drago needs to  _ pay  _ for getting my brother killed.” Her fists clenched. 

Mala set her jaw, replying, “naturally. I just find it so... _ frustrating _ ” she admitted. “Dagur gave his life for mine, but he was murdered by a - a wretched, random hunter. It’s almost unfair. I don’t even know who that man was; Sleuther killed him before he could be interrogated. I regret that, now. He might have known of Drago’s approach.” 

That hadn’t occurred to Heather. “How  _ did  _ Sleuther kill him?” she asked, morbidly curious. Mala told her, and at first she grimaced. Death by magma was a horrible way to go.  _ It’s no less than he deserved,  _ she thought bitterly, the spark of pity ignored. 

“Although…” Mala hesitated, but pressed on. “It was likely a mere coincidence, but the man that - that killed Dagur, resembled….Ryker Grimborn, of all people.” 

Heather frowned, but before she could reply, Fishlegs came over bearing plates of food. She scrambled to her feet and took two of them from his hands. “Thanks. Um, sorry if I’m interrupting something, but I was hungry and figured you would be too.” 

“You’re not interrupting” she assured him, bestowing a kiss on his cheek. “Mala and I were talking about...where her tribe is going to live, now that Caldera Cay is gone.” 

Fishlegs winced. “I am so, so sorry your majesty” he told Mala, “about the Great Protector, and Dagur...I can’t believe they’re both gone.” Beside him, Meatlug gave a mournful groan, and he pet her. She had helped raise the Eruptodon as a hatchling. 

Inclining her head gratefully, Mala replied, “neither can I.” She pressed a hand to her chest and continued “the pain is still here, but...knowing our son is alive helps ease it, a little. I know that no matter how much it hurts, I must carry on. For Oswald’s sake.” 

He opened his mouth to say something, couldn’t think of anything worthwhile, and closed it again, nodding. They ate in silence for a while, contemplating all that had happened. Heather inquired, “Fishlegs, um...this might be a weird question, but did Viggo ever mention having family members in the hunters other than Ryker?” 

Fishlegs blinked. “Um, yeah. This cousin of his, Lars, sided with Drago. Only I don’t think Viggo really considers him family anymore” he winced. “Why do you ask?” 

“He might have been the one to...to kill Dagur,” explained Mala. She swallowed and went on, “he’s dead now. Perhaps we should not tell Viggo unless he asks, though.” That would surely be an awkward conversation. The others winced and nodded. 

* * *

Throk stood with eyes closed, facing towards home, muttering prayers under his breath. He passed a halberd from one hand to the other, trying to get used to its familiar but different weight. He’d been forced to leave his trusted polearm behind, in order to ride...grief made his fingers clench around the handle.  _ She saved my life.  _

The faintest  _ crack  _ behind him and he spun round, hefting the weapon defensively. A woman with short hair held her hands up. He blinked. “Miss Ruffnut? Is that you?” 

“No, it’s Tuffnut. Of course it’s me” she huffed, lowering her hands. “Viggo’s been teaching me and Tuffnut stealth skills. Didn’t mean to startle you...are you okay?” 

She’d come to ask him how he fared? “My apologies,” said Throk, leaning the weapon against a rock and bowing. “I didn’t recognise you with your hair short.” 

Ruffnut pulled a face and ran her fingers through the bangs. “Ugh, don’t remind me. Tuff and I had to cut off all our hair for a disguise when we were trying to rescue Spitelout and Viggo from Drago’s flagship...long story. I know it’ll grow back, but that’ll take  _ forever _ ” she groaned, “and then I’ll have to braid it all again, and put oil in it…” 

On an impulse, Throk remarked “I didn’t say it was bad. I think short hair suits you.” 

She flushed pink. “Heh. Um. Thanks, I guess.” Ruffnut fidgeted. She wasn’t good at this touchy feely stuff. “Sorry about your home, and the Eruptodon. If - y’know, if the rest of us had been there, we wouldn’t have let her be killed. She didn’t deserve that.” 

He sighed. “It is a grave loss indeed. The Great Protector’s sacrifice will be honoured by our people for generations to come...assuming we survive this war, of course.” 

Ruffnut gave him an odd look. “You don’t have to talk like that, y’know” she remarked. “All formal and stuff. It’s just us two here. Come on, how do you  _ really _ feel? Angry, yeah? So angry you could just scream, because it’s not  _ fair,  _ and you just wanna…” she mimed throttling an invisible foe. “If I go grab a weapon we could spar for a bit.” 

Throk stared at her in surprise. “I am...angry,” he admitted, flexing his shoulders. “I suppose releasing some frustration with a bit of light sparring wouldn’t hurt...much.” 

“That’s the spirit. Wait, did you just make a joke?” Ruffnut wondered, and cackled. “Guess I can crack that formal facade after all! Come on, big guy, let’s find room somewhere and throw down. But don’t expect me to go easy on you!” she warned. 

In spite of it all, Throk found himself smiling. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Miss Ruffnut.” 

* * *

With the supplies retrieved, the livestock kept out of the way in their own cavern and a rota of guards assigned for both the trapdoor and passage leading to a waterfall… the only thing left to do was wait. Snotlout busied himself sharpening and polishing his sword. Not that he’d really had a chance to  _ use  _ it. He itched for a  _ proper  _ fight. 

As if reading his mind, Hookfang snorted smoke, and he coughed. “Oh, quit that, you big lizard. I love fighting on dragonback as much as the next guy, but it’s not the same as going toe to toe with someone for a glorious death and welcome to Valhalla” he explained. Hookfang just rolled those big yellow eyes. “Fine. Be like that then.” 

“Trouble with yer dragon, boyo?” asked Spitelout, walking over to them with Kingstail. 

“Oh, hey dad. I was just telling Hooky that fighting on dragonback isn’t the same as a proper man to man battle. I can’t believe we had to retreat  _ again.  _ We were winning!” 

His dad nodded. “We had ‘em on the ropes, for sure! If not for Stoick goin’ down an’ Hiccup losin’ control of his dragon for that wee moment, odds are we might’ve stood a chance.” He looked around and questioned, “where’s that girl o’ yours gone to?” 

Snotlout replied “oh, don’t worry. Minden’s safe. She went back to the Wingmaidens.” 

“Pity; she had spunk. Would’ve given my blessings, but better luck next time, eh?” 

Now he was just confused. “Huh? I don’t mean she’s gone back to join them. Just until this war’s over and things go back to…” Snotlout was about to say ‘normal’, but even he knew that things would never be the same again. His girlfriend was  _ blind _ . 

Spitelout was thinking of the same thing, but for very different reasons. “ _ Exactly _ ” he said knowingly. “Look, I’m not sayin’ she wouldn’t have been a good match, but you gotta be practical about these sorts of things. There’s plenty o’ fish in the sea, boyo.” 

Normally, he would have laughed and agreed with his dad, but this time it didn’t feel right. “But I like Minden, dad; and she likes me. Still haven’t figured out why…” 

“Me neither” his father quipped. “Just kidding. Trust me, you’ll get over her soon.” 

“But why should I? It’s not like we’ve broken up...wait. Are you saying I should break up with her?” Snotlout demanded, finally catching on. “Just because she’s blind?”

Spitelout looked incredulous. “You mean you haven’t already? It won’t do any good to keep stringing the lass along, boyo! No offence to her, but a crippled wife isn’t” - He never finished that sentence, because Snotlout’s fist abruptly connected with his jaw. 

The young man’s eyes widened in alarm. He’d just  _ punched  _ his father! “Sh-shut up” he stammered, trying for bravado. “Maybe I don’t  _ care _ that Minden’s blind, okay?” 

Wiping blood from his lip, Spitelout towered over Snotlout, looking furious. But before he could tear into the impudent boy, loud noises - lots of thuds - came from the tunnel that led to the door. All eyes snapped towards it. The army was trying to dig them out. 


	12. Besieged

Hiccup and Viggo came running as soon as they heard the commotion, pushing through the crowd. Meatlug had already leapt into action, getting Shattermaster and Rockslide to help her seal up the tunnel with fast hardening lava bombs. “Good work, guys!” praised Fishlegs. Then he told Hiccup urgently, “they’re trying to dig us out!” 

Mind racing, Hiccup ordered, “close ranks! Form a semi-circle in front of that tunnel and if something breaks through, hit ‘em with everything you’ve got. The rest of you, defend the injured and every other tunnel leading out of this cave, blocked or not!” 

So fierce was his expression that everyone hastened to obey, whether they were Hooligans or not. Viggo looked at the wall of cooled lava and declared, “I have an idea. It should buy us some time, but I need some of your gas cartridges.” Hiccup gave him a handful of spares, then he hurried to the tunnel that led to the waterfall. 

Hiccup had no time to wonder about it. He turned to Fishlegs and Heather. “Can you guys get your dragons to break off the bigger stalactites up there?” he asked; they nodded. “Good, and feel free to drop them on whatever gets through that lava wall.” 

Everyone gave the Razorwhip a wide berth as she leapt up to hover near the ceiling, with Meatlug buzzing just below her. Windshear sliced through the first stalactite; Meatlug caught it before it crashed to the cave floor. She set it aside and they did another. “Good work, guys,” Hiccup encouraged. “We need all the help we can get.” 

He tried to stay calm, despite knowing that if they  _ were _ overwhelmed it would be on his shoulders. Viggo left Moonlight behind.  _ Whatever he’s doing, I hope he hurries.  _

* * *

Viggo edged his way through the tunnel to the cave behind the waterfall, and then approached the fall itself. He couldn’t see past the thundering stream of liquid, but he pressed close to the slick rocks and reached through it to grasp at the side of the cliff. With great care he inched out onto the ledge, just barely wide enough to stand on. 

It didn’t help that he was moving on his blind side, but time was of the essence. Viggo climbed up the cliff, hauling himself bodily to one outcrop and then the next. He could feel the burn in his arms; he needed to train more, he’d gotten complacent.  _ Ryker is probably laughing at me right now.  _ At last he reached the top, and caught his breath. 

Flying on Moonlight would’ve been easier, but that meant leaving via their emergency escape route. The longer it went undetected the better. Viggo checked there were no dragons overhead, and then ran towards the volcano. When he saw the Gronckles spitting lava it inspired him; an eruption would hopefully make the enemy back off. 

He didn’t have to reach the crater’s rim; just a tunnel he didn’t think even the other riders knew about. Yet it had been a matter of life and death for him at one point. He forced himself to pace his stride; Viggo was sure they would hold out for a while yet. 

At last he found the tunnel again; there must have been sulfur leaking from it, judging by the stench of rotting eggs. Viggo grimaced and held his breath as he crawled down into the tunnel. What felt like a lifetime ago, he’d dragged himself up it to escape the volcano, agonised with pain from his burnt out eye, choking on fumes. 

When he emerged at the other end, it was like stepping into Muspelheim. His eyes watered from the oppressive heat; Viggo wiped away the blur. He took the cartridges of Zippleback gas, four in each hand and four spare, then hurled each handful, one at a time, into the middle of the lake of magma. The little metal tubes sailed through the air, and as soon as they touched the molten rock, the gas inside of them  _ exploded.  _

For a moment nothing happened, and Viggo worried his gambit had failed...but then the volcano rumbled. Just for good measure, he threw in the last of the cartridges. The ground beneath his feet trembled; he dropped to a crouch to keep his balance. It was growing hotter than ever, and the pool of magma was churning, steadily rising…

Viggo quickly scrambled back up the tunnel, burning the skin of his hands, but he pushed through the pain. The plan had worked too well; the volcano was  _ erupting _ . 

* * *

Judging by the muffled noises they heard, Bludvist’s dragons had broken through the dragonsteel door,  _ and  _ the rubble that Toothless brought down. One of them charged up the tunnel; they could hear its claws against the stone, its huffing breath. All their dragons snarled, fire held in jaws ready to attack. The lead dragon slammed into the lava wall, and cracks spread across it. Meatlug spat a globule of lava to cover them. 

It was to no avail; more cracks appeared, wider than before, and then the cooled lava shattered completely. A helmeted dragon - a Rumblehorn - charged through, and the dragons unleashed a torrent of flame to keep it at bay. It bellowed, and Hiccup’s eyes widened; he recognised the sound. “No - Toothless, hold!” he cried out. “It’s Skull!” 

He spoke just a second too late; Shattermaster and Riptide had just dropped one of the stalactites onto the Rumblehorn’s back. He crumpled to the ground, and now they could see his familiar green colouration; it  _ was  _ the chief’s dragon. Now Thunderclaws were attempting to get into the cavern; Toothless, Stormfly, Meatlug and Moonlight kept them at bay, whilst Hookfang and Barf-and-Belch dragged Skullcrusher aside. 

Hiccup scrambled over to the Rumblehorn and with help from Throk, tore the helmet away. He cupped his hand over the dragons’ snout, shoulders dropping in relief when he felt warm puffs of air. “He’s still breathing...come on. Wake up,  _ please _ .” He didn’t want to have to tell his father that they had accidentally killed Stoick’s dragon partner. 

After what felt like eternity, but was really just a few moments, Skullcrusher groaned. His eyelid slid open, and the pupils were slit - Hiccup’s heart constricted - but then he sniffed at Hiccup’s palm, seemed to recognise the scent, and his pupils widened. “Oh thank Thor. Yeah, it’s me” Hiccup assured Skullcrusher. “...Sorry about the big rock.” 

The others were still trying to fend off the Thunderclaws - and now a Zippleback had snaked one of its heads in, spewing gas. Hookfang closed his jaws around its neck, making it choke on its own blood. The humans flinched as the gas it expelled was set alight and blew up almost in their faces, if not for scaly wings hastily blocking the way. 

It did give Toothless an idea, however. “Moonlight must-help!” he barked. She could guess what he had in mind, and hissed in anticipation. “Flock-mates stand back, protect humans” added Toothless, charging another blast. Moonlight did the same, lightning crackling between her jaws. Their fellow dragons backed away, herding the humans aside as well. Everyone remembered Minden’s injury and hid their faces. 

At the last moment, Toothless screwed his eyes shut and fired, just as Moonlight did the same. Their blasts combined into a bright flash and thunderous  **boom.** The shockwave radiated out in all directions, knocking them off their feet. The armoured dragons got the worst of it. Their bodies were thrown backwards down the tunnel, colliding with still more Thunderclaws, but at least their bulk slowed the others down. 

“Oh, for the love of Thor!” cried Snotlout, “what is it gonna take to make these guys  _ back off _ ?!” he demanded. No sooner had he spoken than a great rumbling, as if of thunder, filled the air. The ground trembled; debris fell from the ceiling, and cracks spread out from where the stalactites had been broken off, and around the tunnel…

They all scrambled away from the tunnel mouth as it caved in. There were screams as the ground shook, but at last it stopped. Hiccup came out from beneath Toothless’ wing; his dragon had leapt over him protectively. The tunnel was mostly blocked, but for a gap at the top of the rubble. “Is everyone alright?” he called out. “Anyone hurt?” 

Apart from a few bruises when the shockwave knocked them down, nobody seemed worse for wear. Skullcrusher had fallen unconscious again, but Throk confirmed he was still alive, much to Hiccup’s relief. Then his eyes widened as he realised - “Dad!” 

He rushed off to the side cave where his father was still lying unconscious -  _ please let him be unconscious and not...not…  _ Hiccup sagged in relief when he saw that his dad was fine. He’d feared the worst, for a moment. “H-hey, dad. Sorry ‘bout all the noise. I think we incurred the wrath of Thor...but we got Skullcrusher back. He’s knocked out too, though. That’s kind of our fault...I’m sorry. About everything.” Hiccup whispered.

Stoick didn’t even stir. Hiccup squeezed his hand. “Just hang in there. I promise, I’ll do everything I can to keep them safe.” Then he reluctantly pulled himself away. 

* * *

Back in the main cavern, Astrid and Gobber were trying to restore some semblance of order in Hiccup’s absence. “You lot, calm down!” the irascible blacksmith yelled. “The roof isn’t falling down anymore, so quit your bellyaching. We ain’t dead yet!” 

“But what if they come back?” 

“What if the volcano erupts again?” 

Mala declared confidently, “it won’t. Trust me; the Defenders know volcanoes, and that tremor was not a true eruption. More like a...well, not be impolite, but more like”- 

“An eructation, you might say?” Ruffnut suggested. “Or in layman’s terms, a burp?” 

With a sigh, Mala answered “yes, that. It does sound as if the attack is over, though.” 

Snotlout boasted, “don’t worry, your majesty. If they do come back, I’ll just call upon Thor again to smite them down.” Everyone stared at him. “Hey, it worked last time!” 

“I’m pretty sure that had nothing to do with you” Astrid retorted. Hiccup returned, and she asked “your dad, is he okay?” Well, obviously not, but… “he’s not hurt more?” 

“No. No, he’s fine. Has anyone seen Smidvarg?” Hiccup asked. Toothless called out, and the Night Terror alpha flew down to them. So did Darkvarg; the only difference between the pair was their eye colour, yellow and red respectively. “Hey, guys. Sorry about all this...but your flocks can still get out of the cavern, right?” They chirruped an affirmative. “Good. Can you spy on the army? And get our dragons some food?” 

Both little dragons nodded their heads in agreement and flew off. Tuffnut protested “you’re sending Smidvarg off on a dangerous spy mission? Shame on you! I’ll go.” 

“If you’re going on a dangerous spy mission, then so am I” said Ruff. “And Throk!” 

“Huh?” 

Hiccup said impatiently, “guys, no one is going on a spy mission. It’s too dangerous.” 

“Well,  _ duh,  _ we just said that. We’ve been practicing for this just such an occasion!” 

“Don’t you get it? Barf-and-Belch wouldn’t be able to come with you guys, and if that army found you then you’d both be  _ executed _ ” Hiccup glared at Ruffnut, who flinched. 

Tuffnut, as usual, was slower on the uptake. “Uh. Why couldn’t our dragon come?” 

“Because there’s only one way for them to get in or out of this cavern, and if the army finds that trapdoor, we won’t have any way of escaping if we need to.” Hiccup raised his voice and declared, “let’s make this clear, _no dragon_ is leaving. That’s an order!” 

Before he could say anything else Snotlout mocked, “who died and made you chief?” 

Hiccup glared at his cousin, near the end of his patience now, and retorted, “my dad  _ nearly  _ died, and now he’s unconscious, so whether you like it or not  _ I’m  _ in charge.” 

“Yeah, well…” Snotlout wavered, but then kept digging, the stubborn ass. “If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have had to hide like cowards  _ again.  _ We were winning! We could have wiped out that armada and ganged up on the Bewilderbeast if you didn’t”- 

“You think I don’t know that?” Hiccup snapped. “That I don’t  _ hate myself _ ? I’m trying to keep us alive and if that means hiding like a coward then so be it!  _ I am not losing anyone else!”  _ he yelled, hands fisted in Snotlout’s fur cloak. Wait, when had he…? 

It had gone so  _ quiet _ . Hookfang snagged his rider and tugged Snotlout away from Hiccup, who staggered back against Toothless. Both men were breathing hard. Then without a word, Astrid stepped forwards and took Hiccup’s hand, gently leading him away. Once they had walked far enough to be out of earshot, she turned to him. “You’re not alright, so don’t try to tell me that you are. Hiccup, it’s not your fault.” 

He shook his head. “No, it is. Astrid, I know you’re just trying to help but the fact is, I messed up. If I hadn’t gotten out of the saddle, then Toothless wouldn’t have been taken over, and we wouldn’t have lost the rest of the flock to Drago...we might have actually stood a chance. And instead I doomed us all,” Hiccup declared miserably. 

Astrid said nothing. He looked down and waited for her to ask him what he was going to do about it, and he’d have to tell her he didn’t know, that he couldn’t fix this, they were all going to die unless some miracle happened and it would be entirely his fault. 

Instead she lifted his chin to meet her gaze, and stroked his cheek. “I forgive you” she murmured, simple and clear. Hiccup blinked away the tears in his eyes, but they kept coming back, and then his face crumpled. Astrid pulled him into a tight hug and felt him bury his face in her shoulder. “Hey. It’s alright. We’re  _ alive _ . Focus on that” she insisted. “Never mind the worst that could happen. We’re alive, so there’s still hope.” 

Toothless crooned and nuzzled him. “My-fault also” the dragon insisted. “Did-not challenge Sea-Giant. If Hiccup not-blame Toothless, then Hiccup not-blame self.” 

Hiccup sighed. “Trust you two to gang up on me” he muttered. “I’ll forgive myself when I think of a way to fix this and it actually works, and not a moment sooner. Let’s go back before something else goes wrong” he suggested, before heading back. 

* * *

As soon as Hiccup and Astrid were gone, their friends rounded on Snotlout. “I cannot believe you’d be that cruel...what am I saying? Of course I can” sneered Fishlegs. 

“I have to admit, even by  _ your _ standards, that was low,” Tuffnut announced, shaking his head in disappointment. “There’s a time and place to play the blame game, and that wasn’t it.” Everyone present glared at Snotlout; even  _ Hookfang _ was giving him the stink-eye. The only person not glaring at him was… “hey, where’d Viggo...go?” 

Snotlout asked “who cares? He probably ditched us - ow!” He jumped as Moonlight shocked him in retribution. Before he could protest, Hookfang picked Snotlout up by his cloak and carried him like a struggling hatchling over to where Hiccup had gone. 

When Hiccup and Astrid came back out of the tunnel, Snotlout was waiting for them. It looked like Hookfang had dragged him over there. Astrid glared at him suspiciously, but Hiccup quietly told her to go on ahead. He and his cousin stood in an awkward silence for a few moments, not meeting each other’s eyes. At last Snotlout broke it. 

“I’m sorry” he mumbled. 

“Yeah, me too.” 

“...you don’t really hate yourself, do you?” 

“I dunno. Not really. I just…” he shrugged helplessly. The awkward silence was back. Rather than try to think of something else to say, Hiccup just offered a reconciliatory handshake, which Snotlout took. Then they returned to the cavern, where a cask of mead had been opened and everyone was passing around tankards of the stuff. 

Gobber cheerfully explained, “I figured we oughta celebrate not dying, to keep up morale. Here, chief” - he pressed a mug into Hiccup’s hands. “You could use one.” 

“I’m not the chief” he protested, but took a gulp of the sweet alcohol nonetheless. 

“Coulda fooled me. D’you have any idea where Viggo went?” 

Hiccup frowned. “He’s not back yet?” That was worrying...if he’d been captured, they might not be able to risk another rescue attempt. Moonlight was standing vigil at the entrance to the waterfall tunnel. As soon as her rider emerged from it, she pounced. 

“Agh! Yes, yes, I’m back. I’m fine. Sorry I worried you” he murmured, stroking her - or rather he reached out to stroke her, only to hiss and pull his hands away again. 

The other riders crowded round. “Hey, V, where’ve you been?” asked Tuffnut. “You missed it all! We knocked out Skullcrusher by mistake, and the volcano burped.” 

“There was a tremor” Fishlegs elaborated. “It caved the tunnel in. You must’ve felt it.” 

Viggo winced. “I did feel it. That...that tremor was sort of my fault” he admitted. 

Snotlout asked, “Wait,  _ you  _ called upon the wrath of Thor? I thought I had done that!” 

“What? No. I mean, I wasn’t trying to make the volcano  _ erupt.  _ Just...to make it look like it was erupting.” Viggo almost seemed embarrassed. “To make them back off.” 

In disbelief, Hiccup pointed over his shoulder at the rubble. “You...you know that could have brought down the whole cave, right? Or that  _ you  _ could have been killed?” 

“Well, that’s why I went instead of...Honestly, I wasn’t even sure if it would  _ work _ ,” he confessed. “I just...took a gamble. And then it worked a little  _ too  _ well” he explained. 

“...it did work,” Hiccup acknowledged. “And thankfully no one was hurt, so I’ll let you off this one time. But don’t you  _ ever  _ do anything that dangerous again!” he scolded, jabbing a finger into Viggo’s chest. “Or at least give us some warning next time.” 

The older man was visibly chastened. “Yes. Of course. Sorry” Viggo apologised. 

Hiccup nodded. “Good. Oh, and uh, can you hold your hands out, please?” Despite his confusion, Viggo obeyed, and they all winced. His palms were blistered, puffed and red raw, even though he’d soaked them in the waterfall. “Do your thing, bud” Hiccup prompted Toothless, who licked Viggo’s hands. He pulled them away. “Relax. Night Furies have healing spit, y’know. It’s either this or you have to deal with Gothi.” 

So he let the Fury lick him. Afterwards, there was a flurry of wingbeats as the Night Terrors returned. Three or four small dragons landed in front of each of the larger ones, and dropped pawfuls of fish in front of them. Toothless crooned gratefully and started eating his share. “Thanks, guys. What is it, Smidvarg?” asked Hiccup, as the Terror pawed at his leg. He crouched down to listen, and then grimaced. “Oh.  _ Great _ .” 

“What’s wrong?” Astrid prompted, as she helpfully dropped fish into Stormfly’s maw. 

“He says the hunters have come onto the island, and they’ve started chopping down the lookout posts” Hiccup explained. “I guess to save time on stripping branches off.”

“To repair the rudders” guessed Viggo, “But that’ll take a while even with dragons. They’ll need to haul each ship out of the water just to reach the damned things.” 

Fishlegs said nervously, “but if they fix the rudders then they’ll be able to sail away with Berk’s dragons, and we can’t rescue them, not with all those armoured dragons.” 

“Nor to mention, Drago might sic  _ our  _ dragons on us next time, so we’d have to defend ourselves against them” Astrid realised, “like he tried to do with Skullcrusher.” 

They all looked pensive, especially Hiccup. This cavern was their most defensible location, even if the exit was discovered, but that would leave them vulnerable. At the same time, he disliked the thought of abandoning all those dragons to their fate...but as harsh as it was to admit, if the choice came down to his tribe, or the flock…

At last, Viggo spoke up again. “The dragons will be kept alive, and we know that Bludvist’s base is somewhere on the mainland. If worst comes to worst, and they sail off with the dragons...assuming we manage to survive this, we’ll be able to get them back. It helps that I’m familiar with where all the dragon hunter ports are, of course.” 

“Way to sound modest,” Hiccup teased. He stifled a yawn and said, “okay, we need”- 

“ _ You  _ need a nap,” Gobber interrupted. “You look dead on your feet! Well. Foot.” 

“The last thing I need is a nap. There’s too much to do.” 

Viggo asked, “but why do you have to be the one to do it? Gobber is right. You should have a rest. The last time you slept was before going to Dagur’s funeral, wasn’t it?” 

Hiccup tried to protest, but then yawned again. “.... _ Fine.  _ I’ll just lie down for a bit” he muttered, “but wake me up if something happens, alright?” They nodded and ushered him off with Toothless. For the sake of privacy he went back to the triage cave; Gothi gave him a knowing look and quelled Phelgma’s protests about him hanging about. 

He curled up against Toothless, beside his father, closed his eyes and tried to sleep. 

* * *

After Hiccup had left to get some rest, Viggo turned to Gobber and remarked in a low voice, “we should probably put some guards on the waterfall tunnel, just in case. I’ll take the first shift” he offered. Gobber nodded and trudged off to find Spitelout. 

Astrid looked at Viggo and guessed, “you think they might follow your scent here?” 

He shrugged. “I think we should consider the possibility. Besides, I can use the time to come up with a plan.” With that he leaned against the wall of the cave, near the tunnel but not right beside it. Moonlight squeezed in beside him, and he smiled at her. 

Looking at his palms, Viggo saw that the redness and swelling had gone down a lot.  _ I guess maybe Night Furies do have healing spit  _ he considered. Moonlight chirped, and he glanced up to see Fishlegs. “How’re your hands? Gothi has burn ointment.” 

“No, don’t worry about me. I’ve had a lot worse than burned palms” Viggo assured him. He saw Fishlegs glance towards his blind side and then quickly look away again. To change the subject, he complimented, “you were very brave earlier, attacking the Bewilderbeast like that.” Fishlegs blushed. “I take it the distraction didn’t work, then?” 

“Yeah. I mean, no. That’s kinda what I wanted to tell you about” Fishlegs admitted. He explained how they’d been unable to get near the Bewilderbeast, let alone drop rocks on it. “It was so  _ weird.  _ Meatlug says it felt like she flew into an invisible cliff. I thought the Bewilderbeast couldn’t control our dragons when we were riding them?” 

Viggo replied “It can’t, or we’d have been done for by now. Presumably, anyway. If it could command them whether we were there or not, it would have done so, surely.” 

Fishlegs shrugged. “I guess. Maybe that...repulsion? Had nothing to do with its mind control thing, or whatever it is.” He fiddled with his pack. “Drago was riding on it.” 

“Yes, I saw….so?” 

“So, he was right there! He’d made himself vulnerable. Meatlug and I could’ve - I mean, we should’ve just, y’know, ended it...but we didn’t” Fishlegs said miserably. 

_ Ah.  _ “By that same logic, Moonlight and I could have ‘just ended it’. But we didn’t.” 

“But you guys were trying to stop Toothless from being forced to kill Hiccup!” 

“Yes, and a lightning blast to the face would have distracted the Bewilderbeast and Drago just the same” Viggo pointed out. “You know why I didn’t have Moonlight shock him instead? I worried that the Bewilderbeast would lash out and bury them all in ice.” 

With a shudder, Fishlegs admitted “that would’ve been worse, yeah. This is why I don’t blame Hiccup for any of this. I can’t believe Snotlout…” he clenched his fists. 

“Beg pardon?” 

“Oh, you missed that. Snotlout blamed Hiccup for getting us stuck down here and he...said he blamed himself more. I think he’s okay now, though. Astrid talked to him.” 

“She’s good for him.” Viggo rubbed his beard and acknowledged, “this ‘repulsion’ thing is troubling, however. I had hoped we could work together and distract it from controlling the other dragons, but if we can’t even get  _ near _ the Bewilderbeast…” 

“Yeah, and...I mean, maybe you’re right and we’d get the dragons back eventually, but what about all those kids with the Wingmaidens?” Fishlegs worried. “I know you said Lars didn’t know about them, and he’s dead now, but if any flyers survived” - 

“Wait, wait, slow down,” Viggo said sharply. “How do you know that Lars is dead?” 

Fishlegs tried and failed to look innocent. “Who’s dead? Nobody’s dead” he lied, even worse than Hiccup. Viggo just gave him a pointed stare and he crumbled in seconds. “Okay, okay. Truth is...your cousin  _ might  _ have been the one who killed Dagur. Then Sleuther killed him. But we don’t know for sure, it was just a guess” he added hastily. 

After a moment, Viggo remarked “well if you’re guess is right, I must remember to thank Sleuther. I thought I’d end up killing Lars myself, but this saves me the trouble.” 

“....Wait, so, you’re okay with this? I mean, he was your cousin.” 

“Not anymore. Have you forgotten who you’re talking to?” he asked incredulously. “Lars joined Drago and sold us all out in an attempt to get petty revenge on me for ‘betraying the family business’; far as I’m concerned, he deserved whatever he got.” 

“I guess I just thought that was something the old you would think” Fishlegs admitted. “But then I suppose the old you wouldn’t have been on our side to begin with…” 

_ Old me?  _ Viggo was amused, but also sceptical.  _ Have I changed that much?  _ “What were you saying, about the Wingmaidens?” he asked instead, to get back on topic. 

“Hm? Oh. It’s just that even if the army doesn’t know where they are, they could still be found, if the ships get repaired. I keep worrying that they’ve  _ already _ been found and…” Fishlegs shook his head and shuddered. “I don’t even wanna think about it. But if you think of a way to help them too...sorry, um, I’m not distracting you, am I?” 

Viggo shook his head. “Not at all. In fact, you may have given me an idea, but I need to talk to Heather first. If I can get someone to take over guard duty…” He seized his chance when Spitelout came over, and went in search of the young chieftess, with Fishlegs trailing behind. That was alright; he might be able to convince his girlfriend. 

* * *

It wasn’t hard to track someone down in the caverns. The hard part was getting to them, past all the dragons and humans crammed in together. At least his plan would relieve the issue of space...and hopefully some of the smell, too. Heather was talking to Mala; even more convenient. He cleared his throat and they both looked up at him. 

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” said Viggo, “but I need to ask you both a few questions.” 

They shared a glance, both curious and wary. “Like what, exactly?” inquired Heather. 

“Your island was attacked early on, and you said you’d sunk all the ships, correct?” 

“Yeah…” 

“So there were no survivors to tell Drago the attempted invasion had failed, right?” 

“...Right...Viggo, where are you going with this?” she asked impatiently. 

He sighed; some people just didn’t appreciate a slow, dramatic reveal. “Fishlegs has pointed out to me that the Wingmaidens and everyone we sent to stay with them - including your son, your majesty - are at risk. But if Drago believes your island has already been conquered, he won’t think to go there. The Berserkers and Defenders could leave under cover of darkness, pick up the kids and take them back there.” 

The two women looked surprised. Fishlegs protested, “but if they all went back to Berserker Island, what about the Wingmaidens? I know Atali and the others would never leave the Razorwhips behind; taking care of those dragons is their purpose!” 

“Yes, but these are Razorwhips we’re talking about”, Viggo rolled his eyes. “One of the most aggressive and vicious dragons...ah, no offence” he added to Windshear, who was eyeing him grumpily. She snorted at him. “Quite. The point is, they’d be able to defend themselves so long as the Bewilderbeast isn’t involved. This plan means we’d have more space, and Atali wouldn’t have to feed all those extra mouths.” 

Heather retorted “no, my tribe would have to instead. And they’d follow our scents. We’d lead the hunters right to our allies, did you think of that?” she asked rhetorically. 

“They wouldn’t follow your scents if they don’t know there are any scents to follow.” 

Before she could think of a rebuttal to that, Sleuther cracked an eye open and piped up, “can-hide scents. Is easy. Smell-like ocean,  _ near _ ocean, not-can tell difference.” 

“Huh” she murmured, before catching herself. “I mean, okay, maybe it would be safe, but I’m not gonna just fly off when the man who got my brother killed is still at large.” 

Mala gave a curt nod. “Likewise. My people will not turn away from this war like cowards, not after having been forced to flee once already. I will stand with them.” 

Viggo frowned. “So you’d risk leaving your tribe without a chief?” he asked Heather pointedly, and to Mala, “your son, orphaned? Because that will happen if we lose.” 

“So come up with a plan to make us not lose! Why do you even care? You’re not” - 

“You know  _ nothing  _ about me, Heather” he glared at her, furious. “Remember that.” 

Fishlegs jumped in before things could get any more heated. “Hey, c’mon, let’s go talk this out” he pleaded with his girlfriend. Scowling, she gave Viggo another irritated stare, which he ignored, and then let Fishlegs lead her away. He shot an apologetic glance at Viggo as he left, who then sighed and leaned against the wall of the cave. 

Mala didn’t look at him, and for a moment Viggo was tempted to make an excuse and leave as well. Not that he had anywhere to go… “Fishlegs mentioned Lars,” he said on impulse. She glanced at him, puzzled, so he had to clarify, “that he killed Dagur.” 

Understanding dawned. Viggo quickly went on, “I, ah, want to thank Sleuther for getting rid of the man. He was no cousin of mine after joining with Drago, trust me.” 

She nodded stiffly. Having talks with former enemies was always so awkward...he didn’t know why it was easier with Hiccup. Perhaps because the young man actually wanted to talk to him. Viggo was about to excuse himself when Mala spoke up. “What you said, about Oswald...you’re right. I can’t leave him orphaned. My husband died to save me, and I…” she swallowed. “It would be selfish of me to undo that sacrifice.” 

“...I know how he would have felt, if he hadn’t…made it in time” Viggo admitted. 

At first Mala was puzzled, but also shrewd, and it soon dawned on her. “You have…?” 

She glanced at him, questioning, and he looked away. “ _ Had _ . A long time ago.” Years, and it shouldn’t still hurt this much, surely? Yet it did. Moonlight crooned reassuringly. He gave her a stroke and murmured, more to himself than anything, “I’m fine, really.” 

After a moment, Mala said “I’ve been telling myself that, too. But...it’s okay not to be. I realise we’ve had our differences, but that’s in the past” she acknowledged. “It would be unfair to judge you for your old ways if I forgave Dagur. I suppose what I’m trying to say is that I won’t force you, but if you want to talk about it, I’m willing to listen.” 

The genuine goodwill left him speechless for a moment. He expected this kind of open-heartedness from Hiccup, but not from… Viggo found himself tempted to take her up on that offer. It was hard to talk about them, after so long guarding his secrets, but Mala knew how it felt; not that he’d wish that on anyone. “Her name was Sigrid.” 


	13. One Last Stand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I teared up writing this so you should too. Listen to ‘Last Goodbye’ for max feels.

Fishlegs asked Heather, “you know Viggo’s changed. Can’t you cut him some slack?” 

She fidgeted, grimacing. “He just gets under my skin. Acting like he knows better than all of us...and  _ has _ he changed? He did nearly bring the cave down on us all.” 

“That was an accident,” he frowned. “He wasn’t  _ trying  _ to get anyone hurt. Viggo’s just as desperate as the rest of us. Also...don’t take this the wrong way, but I think he kind of has a point, about you getting out of here and back to your tribe. They need you.” 

Heather sighed, fiddling with her braid, and admitted, “truth is...I might not be chief of the Berserkers for much longer. You know how I offered to let the Defenders join with my tribe? Mala and I figured that since she’s older, and she was Dagur’s wife, then she ought to be the leader of our combined tribe. I’d still be high ranking, of course.” 

“Yeah...wait, so if you weren’t the chieftess, would you be second in command?” 

“Me or Throk, we’ll have to duke it out” she teased. “But I was actually thinking of being something much simpler. Like, say...the wife of a healer?” she murmured. “If only I knew a nice guy who was a healer and who’d want to marry me.” Heather tapped her chin as if deep in thought, heard him sigh, and giggled. “So, will you?” 

“Huh?” 

“Marry. Me.” 

“Oh! Yes, yeah, but - but I thought you said you didn’t want to marry until after…?” 

Heather’s expression turned pensive. “There might not  _ be  _ an after” she murmured. “I just think, if we both stay, and we both...you know. Why not do it whilst we still can?” 

“What, get married down here? It wouldn’t be much of a wedding” he pointed out. 

She shrugged. “Doesn’t need to be. Hiccup could marry us, he has the authority.” 

“Yeah, so does Gothi...wait, what am I saying?” Fishlegs shook his head and protested, “Heather, we don’t need to have a rushed wedding because you’re not staying here to...to get killed” he whispered. “You need to go and help your people.” 

“They’ll manage fine. Fishlegs, we need every dragon rider we can get, and I don’t have anyone waiting for me. I know the risks. If this is it for us, why  _ not _ get married?”

It was certainly tempting...and he couldn’t think of any reason to object, but for some reason he was still hesitant. “I’ll need to mull it over” he said finally, “and you should get some rest, Heather. You must be exhausted.” She hummed and rested her head on his shoulder. He blinked, and then smiled. It wasn’t like he was going anywhere. 

* * *

Hiccup stirred sluggishly, leaning against Toothless’ side. Everything ached, and when he opened his eyes he realised that they weren’t alone. He sat up sharply. 

“You’re so twitchy,” his aunt Freda commented. “I don’t bite, you know.” She draped a damp cloth over Stoick’s brow, and he sighed. “Don’t worry, lad. If my brother (1) could survive his head splitting open, he can survive this” Freda declared confidently. 

“I hope so” Hiccup murmured, and then frowned, puzzled. “Wait...when did he…?” 

His aunt raised an eyebrow. “Hasn’t he told you about the time our father made him slam his head against a rock?” she asked. “Maybe he didn’t want you getting ideas.” 

“I wouldn’t hit my head against a rock, aunt Freda” he protested, “and yeah, he used to tell me that story all the time when I was a kid. He said that the rock split in half.” 

She rolled her eyes hard. “Of course he did. It wasn’t the rock that split, it was his  _ head _ . There was blood everywhere; and I was squeamish as a little girl, had one look and fainted, and got stuck with that nickname ever since.” Again with the eye rolling. 

_ Dad never told me that.  _ “I can see why he didn’t mention it,” Hiccup muttered. Then he realised, “what am I doing? I can’t be sitting around...um, thanks auntie. I’m sorry about all of...this. I’ll figure something out, I promise.” Then he hurriedly left the cave. 

Viggo was waiting for him when Hiccup and Toothless emerged from the tunnel. “I hope you got some sleep. Are you feeling better?” he inquired, looking concerned. 

Hiccup sighed. “I feel like I fell asleep on solid rock,” he deadpanned, trying to stretch his aching limbs. “Did you need something?” he asked. “Were we attacked again?” 

“Fortunately, no, but I’m pretty sure you’d have noticed. Don’t worry; Astrid and Gobber have been keeping the peace, as it were, whilst you were having a much needed rest” Viggo explained, pointedly. “Oh, and I had an idea I think you’ll like.” 

“I could do with a good idea right now,” Hiccup said in relief. “Let’s hear it, then.” 

Viggo explained his idea about the Berserkers and Defenders getting out and retrieving the children from Atali’s island. “That  _ is  _ a good idea. If we could get out everyone with kids waiting for them, and any teenagers...I just have one question.” 

“Which is?” 

“Please tell me you also have a plan to keep the rest of us alive” Hiccup begged. 

“...that isn’t really a question” Viggo pointed out, “and I wish I could say yes, I do, but...I’m sorry, Hiccup. You know as well as I do that it’s not always possible to save”- 

‘No!” Hiccup’s fists clenched. “No, no there has to be a way. I can’t…” He perked up suddenly. “Toothless and Moonlight’s combined blasts are stronger, and they’re the fastest dragons. So all we have to do is attack Drago and boom! Even he wouldn’t survive  _ that _ . Then the armada surrenders, we get all the dragons back - it’s perfect!” 

Viggo stared at him in concern. “Hiccup, I don’t think you’ve thought this through.” 

Hiccup pouted, only to smile again when Toothless nudged him. “Hey, bud. D’you wanna go blast Drago in the face? You do, don’t you?” he asked in a baby-talk voice. 

Toothless looked at him like he’d lost his mind. Viggo inquired, “You haven’t quite gotten to the part where you explain how we’re supposed to get past the army of dragons single-handedly, or the back-up plan in case we’re captured, but I’m sure you’ve thought of all that and will explain it any minute now” he finished with a smile. 

“...okay, so the plan has a few holes in it” Hiccup admitted, shrinking in on himself. 

“That you could fly a dragon through” Viggo said pointedly. “Let’s be honest, m’boy; this isn’t a  _ plan _ , it’s an attempt at self-sacrifice out of a misplaced sense of guilt.” Hiccup flinched. “I thought you don’t like seeing people as expendable?” he added. 

“I don’t.” 

“And yet I’d have to come along on your attempted suicide run because…?” 

Hiccup turned red and spluttered. “Okay. Okay, how about…You’re the master strategist here, so you strategise, and I’ll go...be acting chief, I guess” he decided, without much enthusiasm. Viggo signalled Toothless to sit on him. The dragon obeyed, pinning Hiccup to the floor of the cave. “Agh, get off me! Useless reptile.” 

“You’re not going anywhere. We need to talk about this death wish of yours.” 

“I do not have a death wish,” Hiccup protested. The only response was a raised eyebrow, and he slumped in defeat. “Great. You know, people used to say I’d destroy the tribe eventually, but I never thought it would actually happen” he said miserably. 

Viggo rolled his eyes. “It’s Drago who’d destroy the tribe, not you” he pointed out. 

“Yes, because that makes me feel  _ so _ much better.” Hiccup dragged a hand over his face. “It’s bad enough I messed up and got us stuck down here. I can’t order my people to get themselves killed. Maybe...maybe  _ you _ could do that, but I just can’t.” 

“I never said you had to. Hiccup, perhaps you haven’t noticed, but your people are  _ Vikings.  _ As in, fight to the bitter end, fall in glorious battle and go to Valhalla, kind of Vikings. You wouldn’t need to order them to fight to the death, they’d do it anyway.” 

“...I see your point, but if you’re trying to make you feel better, it’s not working.” 

Viggo sighed. “I’m trying to make you see sense. You talk like we’re doomed, but there’s still a chance, however slight, that Eret is coming back here with another Bewilderbeast. If he is, we have hope, and if he isn’t...well, if we’re done for anyway, and our fate is decided, what’s the point in worrying?” he asked rhetorically. 

Hiccup looked sceptical. “You’re saying I shouldn’t worry  _ because _ we all might die?” 

“We’re not all going to die” Viggo insisted. “Look, why don’t you call a Thing and put it to the vote?” he suggested. “Let everyone choose whether or not to stay and fight.” 

That was the most sensible solution, and if Hiccup hadn’t been feeling so guilty he’d probably have thought of it himself. “Yeah, good idea. I’d…. better go and find Astrid.” 

* * *

Outside, Drago savoured the pleasure of walking on solid ground for the first time in a while. It did little to ease his dark mood, however. Most of his anger was directed at himself in fact, but his men didn’t know that, and wisely gave him plenty of space. He regretted not having the Beast destroy the chief and heir when he’d had the chance. 

Next time, he would not hesitate, and the ‘dragon master’ would die. No matter - he had succeeded in wresting control from the Berkians of almost all the dragons, and the rest would soon follow. They had retreated  _ again,  _ the cowards, barricading themselves into caverns with what little provisions they had. Meanwhile his soldiers were hard at work repairing damage to the ships, making them seaworthy once more. 

Drago was in no hurry, and this was a defensible island. Not that anyone could stand against him now. “Take our cargo to the northern stronghold,” he ordered his second in command. “I’ll meet you there after I’ve dealt with these riders once and for all.”   


* * *

Hiccup stood on Toothless’ back, who roared to get everyone’s attention. “Everyone, listen! I’m going to be straight with you. The fact is, unless Eret comes back with another Bewilderbeast, and I know that’s not a guarantee...we’ve lost.” He paused, expecting them to argue, but instead they just muttered anxiously and stared at him. 

“I’m sorry. As far as I can tell, we have three options. Either we all try to escape the Edge, but that means going somewhere less defensible, or we surrender, or we stay and fight...take out Drago Bludvist, or die trying.” He swallowed. “It’s your choice.” 

They all muttered again, but Spitelout was the first to speak out. “What sorta choice is  _ that _ ? To run like cowards, live as slaves or fight and die like Vikings? What are we?” 

“ _ Vikings _ !” 

“Are we gonna run and hide or surrender?” 

“ _ No _ !” 

“Are we gonna stand our ground and fight?” 

“ _ Yeah _ !” 

Spitelout looked up at his nephew with a satisfied smirk. “Choice made, chief.” 

Not bothering to point out that he wasn’t truly the chief, Hiccup declared “so be it, then. We’ll make our last stand - but not yet, and not all of us. I want at least those of you with children waiting to get away; there’s no sense in  _ everyone _ getting killed and leaving them orphaned” he pointed out. “This cavern isn’t comfortable, but it can be defended. If we risk leaving, we risk being found, so we only have one shot at this.” 

“Here’s what I propose; we hold out here for as long as we can, either until they try to break in again, or we run out of food, or...or if help arrives.” Hiccup wasn’t confident in that prospect anymore, and it showed. “Then we get out of here and launch one last attack against Drago’s flagship. If we can kill him or sink it, we might have a chance. I mean, I don’t know if we can. We might not get near it. But we’ll go down fighting.” 

Hiccup couldn’t keep a tremor out of his voice. He was scared; not just for himself, but everyone he cared about. He didn’t want them to die. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want this.” 

“We know” Astrid told him, before he could go into another guilt spiral. She stepped forwards and declared, “I’m staying. If we go down, then we go down together.” Then she turned back to the crowd and raised a fist, challenging them, “Who’s with us?!” 

Almost everyone thrust their fists upward in solidarity; including Heather. “Wait, what about your tribe?” Hiccup asked her. “The Berserkers - they’ll expect you to return.” 

Heather replied, “That was never certain, and they’ll know it. Besides, I’m not their chieftess anymore. Mala and I have agreed to combine our people into a new tribe, led by her as Dagur’s widow, to be known as the Protectors in the Eruptodon’s honour. You’re not getting rid of me, Hiccup. You said it was our choice. I’ve chosen.” 

Knowing that it would be futile to argue with her, Hiccup gave a resigned nod. Then Fishlegs asked, “um, can I say something?” He gestured for his friend to continue. 

The other man turned to his girlfriend. “Heather? I’ve been thinking about what you suggested, and I’ve made a decision. To commit to this first step.” He took something out of his pocket and held it up - one of Windshear’s scales, threaded with a length of string. A betrothal necklace. “Heather Oswaldsdoittor, will you marry me?” he asked. 

Her eyes suddenly brimmed with tears; she nodded and threw her arms around him. Everyone cheered for them, albeit a muted, melancholy cheer. Wingbeats filled the air as some Terrors returned with more fish for the larger dragons. Smidvarg perched on Hiccup’s outstretched arm, chittering urgently. He listened closely, brow furrowed. 

“Hiccup? What’s wrong?” asked Astrid, seeing his expression turn grave. Everyone stopped celebrating Fishlegs’ and Heather’s betrothal and looked up at him, waiting. 

“He says the ships are starting to leave. They’re taking the dragons” he explained, “but they’re going east, not west towards the Wingmaidens.” That guilt came creeping up on him, but he shoved it aside. “So the children are still safe. I wish we could help the dragons, but...there’s nothing we can do. We...we have to protect ourselves, first.” 

Gobber asked, “what about Stoick? When we do this, are we evacuating ‘im too?” 

“Only if he hasn’t recovered by then” replied Hiccup. That was another reason he was reluctant to rush into things. “You know if he was awake he’d refuse to leave anyway.” 

He just hoped that Stoick forgave him when his father learned of what he had done. 

* * *

Up in the far north, where ice floes had long since turned to bergs, Eret’s crew was still in search of the King of Dragons. Or at least for something that resembled what Astrid had described to Eret, namely a mountain or iceberg with lots of spikes. Sort of in a crown shape. It wasn’t much to go on, and most of the crew had serious doubts. 

“No offence, captain, but we don’t know if this dragon we’re looking for even  _ exists _ ” said Galmi. “I mean, Bewilderbeasts exist, but who’s to say there’ll be one up here?” 

Eret replied, “well they do spit ice. Stands to reason they’d be found where it’s cold.” 

“Aye, captain, but still, we could sail for ages and not find one. Or worse, what if we  _ do _ find one and it turns out to be as hostile as Dragos’?” Galmi asked rhetorically. “I have to tell you, Eret, the men aren’t exactly happy. This could be our chance to get away from Bludvist, and instead we’ve been sent off on some wild goose chase by”- 

“That’s enough,” Eret snapped. He raised his voice to address the crew. “Look, I know this is the last thing any of us expected to be doing. But we all know that Drago is relentless. Sure, maybe we don’t think much of Vikings, or dragons, but they’re counting on us to  _ try.  _ So we keep going. Just one more day, and if we haven’t found anything, we’ll send Thornado back to the riders...assuming they’re even still there.” 

It wasn’t the most inspiring speech, perhaps, but it quelled some of the grumbling. Then the lookout cried “dragon ho!” All of them, including Eret, grabbed crossbows and tried to aim bolas launchers before realising those were gone. Besides, it was only the Thunderdrum. He kept going off to fish and search by himself - at least, Eret thought that was what he did - but so long as they kept to this course, he found them. 

His men got soaked as Thornado burst out of the water nearby and onto the deck. Eret had been standing up on the forecastle and thus missed the worst of the spray. After shaking himself vigorously, the Thunderdrum looked up with those beady yellow eyes at Eret and roared. It was still pretty loud but he was probably trying to be quiet. 

“What?” he questioned. “Look, I don’t speak Dragonese, or whatever they call it.” 

Thornado crouched down and rolled an eye back to peer at his shoulder, then looked at Eret again. “You...want me to ride you?” he asked, then, “you found something?” 

The dragon grunted. Eret swallowed hard and approached carefully...it was one thing to be a passenger on a dragon, but could he actually ride one?  _ Don’t be a coward  _ he scolded himself.  _ If you can trap and wrangle dragons then riding one should be easy.  _ “Fetch me a coil of rope” he ordered, “I’ll need something to hang on with. You don’t mind that, do you?” he asked Thornado, who sighed. Eret would take that as a no. 

What was it Astrid had mentioned about training dragons? The ‘hand thing’? With more than a little trepidation, Eret reached out his empty palm towards Thornado. The dragon eyed it warily, but he didn’t try to come any closer...and then a scaly snout, still cold and wet from being in the sea, pressed against his hand. “Whoa.” 

Galmi tossed him some rope. After he’d figured out a way to tie it around Thornado’s wide body and to his belt, Eret clambered up to kneel on the Thunderdrum’s back. “I’ll be back soon...hopefully. If I don’t return by sunset then just assume I’m dead.” With that less-than-encouraging order given, he held on tight as Thornado took to the air. 

* * *

Thunderdrums didn’t fly too high, probably because they were sea dragons, but Eret was glad of that. It was already freezing, and being up in the air on a damp dragon certainly didn’t help. “It’s a s-shame y-you c-can’t just t-tell me w-what you found” he remarked to Thornado, who didn’t respond. Of course. Thunderdrums were  _ deaf.  _

So he gave up on talking and just tried to enjoy the ride. It wasn’t so bad, freezing cold and numb legs notwithstanding. For one thing the view was phenomenal, all towering icebergs that were pure white and tinged with blue when the sun hit them just right. Eret had grown up amongst sights like this, but it never failed to move him. 

At last, after they’d been flying for what felt like hours, something happened. Eret saw a larger dragon in the distance, higher up. He couldn’t tell the breed from there, but when they got closer it turned out to be a Stormcutter. They weren’t usually found this far north...it seemed to have something on its back. At first Eret thought it was a small dragon, injured perhaps, with blue and brown scales and peculiar, crooked spines. 

The Stormcutter must have picked up their scent, for it wheeled around and spread those four wings to hover above them. Thornado ignored it and just kept going, but then the larger dragon stooped with talons outstretched. Thinking quickly, Eret hauled on the rope like he would with a tiller. They dodged those huge claws, and then Eret clamped his hands over his ears as Thornado bellowed angrily at the Stormcutter. 

Whilst the two dragons argued, Eret looked again at that smaller creature on the Stormcutter’s back. He knew it was alive because it had moved when the dragon dived, and now it was peering down at him through two large black eyes... _ wait a minute.  _ Eret suddenly realised - that was a mask, a helmet. This was a human. 

_ There’s another rider up here?  _ “Ahoy!” he called out, for lack of any better greeting. “We come in peace! Who are you?” Eret asked. The strange clad rider tilted their head at him, and then rose to their feet, balanced on the Stormcutters back. They raised some kind of quarterstaff and used it to beckon whilst their dragon turned. 

Keeping low, and checking he had his knives on him - just in case - Eret watched the strange rider as Thornado followed their Stormcutter. This person couldn’t be one of the Berkian riders, but then how had they learned to train a dragon? They were really serious about it - the strange outfit they wore was clearly designed to mimic a dragon, but of no particular kind as far as he could tell. Eret had so many questions for them. 

Then he saw where they were going - a mountain with enormous bursts of green ice, jagged and foreboding. It looked just like the image Astrid had described - a spiky fan. “This is it” he murmured under his breath. On second thought, he only had one question for this mysterious dragon rider. Would the Bewilderbeast living here help? 

He and Thornado were led into a cave filled with dragons. Eret kept glancing at them warily as he struggled to untie the knot in the rope. When he dismounted, his aching legs nearly gave out; they throbbed as the blood rushed back into his shins. “ _ Ouch _ .” 

Staying close to the Thunderdrum, he looked around in the gloom for that rider. Then he spotted them crouched on the ground, like a dragon, and wondered just how long they’d been here. “Hello?” he began. When there was no response, he tried again in Finnish. “ _ Hei _ ?” Still no reply. “Oh, great. Can you even hear what I’m saying to you?” 

They approached cautiously, edging towards him on all fours.  _ Okay, that’s creepy  _ he thought. “Look, I don’t have time for this, alright?” Eret said impatiently. “My crew’s waiting, and we’ve got folks waiting for us. I’m looking for a Bewilderbeast. It’s a long story, but there’s a madman with a Bewilderbeast and we need another to fight it.” 

At last the rider stood up properly, spun that quarterstaff and rattled discs in either end. All around, dragons filled their jaws with fire, illuminating the cavern better.  _ Well, that’s a neat trick I suppose.  _ Then they spoke, but he couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman through that helmet. “Who are you?” they demanded, “and who sent you?” 

“Eret, son of Eret” he introduced, “and I was sent here by the dragon riders of Berk.” 

They recoiled and hissed at him _.  _ “You  _ lie _ . That tribe no...is no friend of dragons. You must-tell truth...tell  _ the  _ truth. Or die” they threatened. The way they talked was weird; it was as if they’d forgotten how to converse like a normal human. Maybe they had. 

“You must be thinking of a different tribe, because the one I met is  _ obsessed _ with dragons. They even had feeding stations. Look, this Thunderdrum right here?” Eret gestured at Thornado. “He used to belong to the chief of Berk. I just...borrowed him.” 

“Dragons not-should belong to  _ anyone.  _ They...are  _ free _ ” the rider insisted. Eret lost his patience; he’d wasted enough time already, and he didn’t want to deal with this now. 

He declared, “and if you don’t help us, thousands of them won’t be. Hundreds of people are gonna be killed without help from a Bewilderbeast, and I know there’s one here, so will it help or not? I know exactly how cruel Drago Bludvist is.” He pulled down his fur vest to show the brand. “I know what he’ll do to the Berkians if he gets his hands on them, and Hiccup entrusted me to go seek out the King of Dragons.” 

The rider flinched again, then tilted their head. “What you say? That name, again?” 

“Hiccup? Yeah, weird names are kind of a thing with these people. He’s the chief’s son” Eret explained. They gasped, but he didn’t notice. “Sorta the reason they have dragons in the first place, actually. The guy tamed a Night Fury. Named it  _ Toothless _ .” 

Just as Eret realised he was speaking a bit too familiarly, the rider reached up and pulled off their helmet. To his surprise, it was a woman - middle aged, with grey in her auburn hair and a narrow, oval face. She cleared her throat. “Chief’s son named...the chief’s son is named Hiccup?” she asked haltingly. “Does have...does he have a scar, right here?” She pressed a finger to her chin on the right, just under her bottom lip. 

“Err...I dunno. Didn’t exactly get a good look. He’s a Viking, they’re scarred all over.”

She hesitated, and then asked, “what is...his sire - father called? The chief’s name?” 

“Stoick” he replied. Her eyes widened. “Have you met them before? Because I’m pretty sure they would have mentioned a crazy dragon rider living in the frozen back of beyond” Eret remarked. “No offence” he added, but she didn’t seem affronted. 

The woman - whoever she was - replied “I knew them... years ago. Yes. We will help” she said stiffly. “You go back now, to your crew. I tell Alpha, we will catch up. Go!” 

Then she disappeared into the crowd of dragons. “Well, that was the weirdest talk I’ve ever had. C’mon, you” Eret said to Thornado, climbing aboard again. He sat cross-legged this time. “Back to the ship!” To his relief, the Thunderdrum not only listened to him, but flew in the right direction when they emerged from the nest. 

* * *

Cramming a large group of people and dragons into the caverns was always going to be a tense affair. Hiccup had spent enough devastating winters on Berk to know that everyone needed something to do when in close quarters or they would go stir-crazy. 

“Okay! First off, congratulations, you two” Hiccup told Fishlegs and Heather. “Second, we all need to keep an eye on the dragons. If they start acting weird; uh, going rigid, flinching a lot, it means the Bewilderbeast is trying to take control of them again. But having us on their backs distracts them, so if you see that happening, just get on the dragon. Even if it’s not yours. Or just scratch them under the chin to knock them out.” 

Mulch then asked, “uh, chief, what about the livestock and their, y’know,  _ leavings _ ?” 

“Yeah, what about our ‘leavings’?” Snotlout wondered. “I mean in case we need to” - 

Hiccup cut in. “Yeah, I get the picture, thanks. As for the, err, leavings” he rubbed the back of his neck, “we’ll just have to dump all that into the waterfall. And uh, we’ll try and hang a sheet up or something in there to give folks some privacy.” Blushing, he hastily changed the subject. “Actually, Snotlout, can you and Gustav make some Nightmare gel torches? That way your dragons don’t have to flame up all the time.” 

They both nodded. “Thanks. Gobber, you’re still in charge of the rations” Hiccup told him, “guarding the food and all that. You’ll know better than I do how to share it fairly.” 

“Aye, chief!” 

“Okay, good. we’ll keep the supplies in that corner of the cavern, near the waterfall tunnel, and if the dragons stay at the edges that’ll give us room in the middle here.” 

Throk suggested, “perhaps we could do with a sparring area? Ruffnut and I were planning to let off some steam by pretending to kill each other. Her words, not mine.” 

She shrugged. “Hey, that’s basically what sparring is, right?” 

“Not really” Hiccup replied, “but yeah, that’s a good idea. The sparring area, I mean. You, Astrid and Heather can be in charge of that” he told Throk, who gave a salute. 

Before he could protest that the saluting wasn’t necessary, Brunhild asked, “what if we sheared the sheep and used the wool for blankets? Be more comfortable for ‘em.” 

Rather than ask if she meant the humans or the sheep would be more comfortable, Hiccup nodded. “Good idea.” He cast around for something else to say, but came up short. His father would have been able to inspire and comfort everyone… “so, um, yeah, do that and...I guess if there’s nothing else, pray to Thor as hard as you can.” 

_ Oh, that came out wrong, they’re gonna think I’m not taking this seriously  _ he fretted, but to his relief no one outright said as much. They all set off to carry out the tasks he’d set them, or that they’d set themselves.  _ Guess I’d better start praying, then.  _

* * *

Their prayers were being answered in some ways - they hadn’t been found, at least. Not that anyone let their guards down; when they went to the waterfall it was with trepidation, in case armoured dragons burst through and attacked. A close eye and ear was kept on the trap door, lest it suddenly be blasted open. The stress, coupled with frustration and boredom from being stuck down there, made everybody irritable. 

It was a good thing they’d organised sparring matches, just to give all that pent up aggression some outlet. The dragons were restless, and if not for the Terrors bringing them fish they’d likely have fallen into the dreaded ‘death sleep’. As it was, to save their strength most became listless, stirring only to eat, drink or relieve themselves. 

Everyone dealt with the impending doom in their own way. Fishlegs insisted that they had to stay hopeful. “It’s not over yet” he told Heather. “Eret might come back with help. We can’t just give up, right?” He wanted to plan their wedding. She humoured him, but deep down Heather doubted they’d make it through this. Still, it was nice to be near him. Fishlegs was sweet and clever; she wished she could have married him. 

Snotlout lashed out in sparring; he pretended his opponent was Drago Bludvist, and tried to punch them in the face. More often than not he was the one getting beaten, which only made him angrier. Then he fought Mala and hesitated, not quite willing to punch a woman. She threw him to the ground easily and then offered him a hand up. 

He was too prideful to take it, but later he sought her out and asked “um, when you go back to get Prince Oswald, if you see Minden can...can you tell her I miss her?” Mala promised to pass the message on. “Thanks, your majesty” muttered Snotlout. 

“I’ve got it!” Tuffnut exclaimed once, not for the first time. “What if we all scream really loud so they think we’re dead, then we stab ‘em when they let their guards down!” 

“I don’t think there’s enough of us for that, bro” said Ruffnut. “I like the screaming bit, though. Kinda wanna do that right now.” She and Tuff kept trying to think of solutions to their predicament, each one more desperate than the last. They prayed for Loki to strike the hunters with a tidal wave, a swarm of flesh eating locusts, just,  _ anything.  _

For the first time, Hiccup understood why his father was always so busy. It was easier to focus on chiefing than on his own despair and guilt. He assured those who asked that he was fine, yet it was clear from his hollowed gaze that he was anything but. He struggled to think of a plan that would fix his mistake and failed. Toothless, Gobber, Astrid and Viggo frequently reminded him to eat, drink and sleep, but he rarely did. 

“When are we going to make our last stand?” people kept asking. Hiccup didn’t have a reply to give. How could he send them - most of them - to their deaths, let alone when? He insisted that nobody had to stay and fight. Kept trying to convince people - Gustav, Fishlegs and Heather, Astrid - that they should get away when they could. 

More than anything he wanted his dad to wake up, so he could apologise. He was probably going to die, but if he could just hear his father’s voice one last time before that, it would seem worth it. Maybe. He slept near Stoick when he could. Toothless let him curl up under a protective wing and purred, so nobody saw or heard him crying. 

* * *

It was hard to keep track of time in the caves. Hiccup had long since given up caring if the sun was out or not. The riders were sitting together, chewing on dried meat and stale bread. No one had much of an appetite. “Does anyone else miss apples?” Tuff asked out of nowhere. “I miss apples. Do you think they’ll have apples in Valhalla?” 

“There’s a great feast every night” said Astrid, “so yeah, there’s bound to be apples.” 

Fishlegs insisted, “guys, c’mon. I’m scared too, but we might  _ not _ go to Valhalla.” 

“Yeah, some of us will end up in Folkvangr” retorted Snotlout. “And we’re not scared, Fishface. At least I’m not. I’ll fall in glorious battle, but not before I’ve plunged my sword deep into the face of Drago fucking Bludvist!” He tore off another strip of meat. 

Hiccup sighed. “If you do that, you’ll get what you always wanted,” he told his cousin, who looked puzzled. “Eternal praise and glory in the afterlife whilst I’m the failure.” 

“Oh, for the love of Thor” Astrid snapped, exasperated. She pulled him into a bruising kiss. “You have got to stop blaming yourself for this. We forgive you. Right, guys?” 

The other riders, even Snotlout, reassured Hiccup that there were no hard feelings. “I never blamed you in the first place,” Viggo admitted. “Ever since we knew that Drago was coming, this seemed...inevitable. Besides, I’ll get to see Sigrid and Alvis again.” 

“Who’re they?” Tuff asked bluntly, before Hiccup could stop him. 

“My wife and son,” Viggo explained. “I lost them both years ago. Never remarried.” 

The cavern wasn’t quiet, but in their corner of it, silence had fallen. At last, Hiccup broke it. “I thought you didn’t like talking about them,” he remarked solemnly. 

Viggo shrugged. “It would appear I might not get another opportunity.” Talking with Mala had made it a little easier to open up, but he still paused to collect his thoughts. “My tribe fought and conquered several others who were also hunting dragons. Sigrid was the eldest daughter of one of the other chieftains. She and I got on well, so our fathers agreed to keep the peace by arranging a marriage between us” he explained. 

“Not that I didn’t want to marry her. Sigrid was beautiful, clever - as smart as I am, and I don’t say that lightly. Had a tongue like a whip” he chuckled, “and she wasn’t afraid to stand up to anyone, least of all me. Not to mention her skill at hunting.” 

Fishlegs made a noise of surprise. “You - your wife was a dragon hunter as well?” 

“Indeed. Don’t forget, it wasn’t just a  _ hobby _ \- our tribes’ livelihoods depended on it. Sigrid wasn’t cruel, though. She insisted on using humane traps, on keeping the dragons we caught well fed and watered. Kept saying that no one would buy sick, starving dragons - and she had a point, so I enforced the humane treatment. Well...I probably would have done so anyway” Viggo admitted. “Just to make her happy.” 

He was staring at the ground, as all the riders stared at him. “She got pregnant not long after we married, and we had a son. Alvis. He took after his mother,” Viggo took a deep breath. “I was going to teach him everything I knew. Show him the world.” 

“Then one day, when Alvis was about six, seven months old? The captive dragons were accidentally given water tainted with the grimora parasite. They were caged, so it shouldn’t have mattered...except that one of the cages hadn’t been closed properly. A juvenile Nightmare got out, went on a rampage. I rushed to subdue it.” Without thinking, he raised his hand to cover the scars on his neck - three long claw marks. 

His other hand clenched into a fist. “Sigrid...I  _ told _ her to stay with our boy, but she left him with Ryker’s wife and came running to help me. It attacked her. Grimora delays the effect of dragon root, and by the time it was unconscious…” Viggo trailed off. He felt dampness on his cheek, and brushed away a tear. He hadn’t realised he’d started to weep. “I lost Alvis...to a sickness in the village, less than a year later” he rasped. 

Viggo looked up at the others, and saw faces full of sorrow. There were tears in their eyes, even if Snotlout tried to hide it. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to ask for pity or anything.” 

“You don’t have to apologise,” said Astrid. “You’re turning out as bad as Hiccup is.” 

“Guess I’m a bad influence on you” her fiancé joked half-heartedly, not protesting. He hesitated, but his curiosity won out. “Do you...remember what Sigrid looked like?” 

“I can show you.” Viggo opened a secret compartment in his belt buckle and took out a folded piece of parchment. He spread it out to reveal a sketch of a young woman, with a straight nose, long wavy hair and a mischievous looking smile on her face. “Her hair was dark brown, and she had the brightest green eyes - like emeralds.” 

Hiccup’s hunch was right, then…no wonder he reminded Viggo of Alvis. “Thank you” he murmured. “For trusting us. We won’t tell anyone else.” The others nodded in agreement, without hesitation. Viggo smiled ruefully, but grateful nonetheless. They  all went quiet, melancholy. Lost in thought about those they’d lost, and would lose. 

They were interrupted by Freda. “It’s your father” she told Hiccup, “he’s waking up.” 

He was rooted to the spot, breath caught in his throat. Astrid squeezed his hand, snapping him out of it. “ _ Go _ ,” she urged. Hiccup scrambled to his feet and hurried off. 

Stoick’s eyes were still closed when he reached the healers’ cavern, but the man’s breathing had changed. Hiccup knelt beside him and reached out to grasp his hand. “Dad? It’s me….please wake up” he begged. Stoick sighed, and blinked, focusing at last on Hiccup’s face. He sagged in relief, trembling. “You’re awake...I’m sorry, dad.” 

Toothless, who had followed his rider, helped to lift Stoick up off the ground. “Oof, my back…” he muttered. “Sorry for what, son? The last thing I remember was getting…” 

Hiccup swallowed. “Y-you were thrown off Skullcrusher. I...I dismounted to check on you, and the Bewilderbeast took control of Toothless” he explained. Frowning, Stoick glanced at the Night Fury, who crooned. “It took control of the other dragons” Hiccup forced himself to continue, “and we retreated...they tried to dig us out but then the volcano sort of, erupted a bit, and they backed off...but they’ve taken all the dragons.” 

“Unless a miracle happens...we’ve lost” he choked out. “We’re gonna make one last stand...kill Drago, or die trying. I’m sorry. I wanted to keep them all safe, but I failed.” 

He felt a hand rest on his shoulder, and looked up at his father. “You  _ tried _ , son. That’s what matters. I knew it might come to this. It’s not your fault. I am...so proud of you.” 

That was too much; Hiccup had braced himself for anger, or familiar disappointment, not warm praise. Before he could stop it, a tear ran down his cheek, and another, and the hand on his shoulder pulled him in. He embraced his father and wept into Stoick’s beard like he was a little boy again. Not a leader or warrior...just a frightened boy. 


	14. Challenges

At first Thornado flew back to Eret’s ship, but then he tugged on the makeshift harness and exclaimed “wait! Go back a second, I want to see if she’s coming.” He had never met that strange woman in his life - how could he trust her to keep her word? Eret needed to see for himself that she hadn’t just tricked him into leaving. 

Despite being deaf, the Thunderdrum seemed to understand, and perched on a nearby iceberg facing the icy mountain. He could believe that a Bewilderbeast was responsible; ice did not form in those spires, or with that colour, naturally. At least not in his knowledge. Eret was just suspicious about the strange riders’ intentions; she’d agreed to help, but then told him to go back to his crew. Well, they’d just have to wait. 

A flock of dragons emerged from the nest, led by the Stormcutter and his peculiar companion. Hundreds of them flew south; numerous Hobblegrunts, Thunderclaws, Shovelhelms, and many more. In the water below them the waves surged as a large living mass ploughed through the water. Eret urged Thornado to take off - the bow wave was coming right for them. The iceberg was brushed aside like it wasn’t there. 

Just below the surface, he could make out a massive silhouette. The long tusks were unmistakable. Eret was distracted from staring down at the leviathan when Thornado rumbled beneath him, and that Stormcutter flew beside them. “You not-do as told? Not go-back to ship?” its rider demanded, in that strange way of speaking she had. 

She sounded indignant, which in turn made him so. “First of all, I don’t take orders from you” Eret retorted. “Second, I had to make sure you were actually coming. Third, you don’t even know where you’re supposed to go. You need me to lead you there.” 

The woman bared her teeth in a mock-snarl. “Do-know where going! Where Berk is!” 

“I never said we were going to Berk!” Eret snapped, exasperated. “I said the chief sent me. Or rather his son did. They’re on this other island - Dragons Edge, they call it. The whole tribe retreated there after Drago’s first attack. I know, I was there.” 

At the mention of Chief Stoick and Hiccup, she looked worried - almost pained. Eret couldn’t help but wonder why. “Chief Stoick...left Berk?” she asked, then added as if to herself, “maybe changed, maybe…” Her dragon chirred, and she patted his hide. 

It was only then that Eret realised that he wore no saddle or harness of any kind. She was standing on his back, perfectly balanced, and the only reason he was at eye level with her was because Thornado was flying over the Stormcutter’s upper wing. Eret couldn’t help but feel kind of impressed. The dragon riders were skilled, but even they weren’t  _ this  _ skilled. Perhaps living as a crazy feral person had its advantages. 

“So, err, what’s your name?” he asked, tired of thinking of her as ‘the woman’ or ‘the rider’ or ‘insane’. That last one still fit… “you do have one, right? And your dragon?” 

“...Cloudjumper” she replied after a moment. “His name...is Cloudjumper. My name V. Just V.” She gestured with her staff. “You lead, show the way to this Dragons Edge.” 

Though tempted to remind her to say please, Eret was just glad his mission had succeeded. “If you insist, ma’am. Thornado, go back to the Edge, back to Stoick and the others!” he urged, covering his ears as the Thunderdrum bellowed in answer. 

* * *

It was another day or so before Stoick felt well enough to rejoin everyone, but news of his recovery spread like wildfire through the caverns. It galvanised his tribe to know that he had not succumbed to his wounds and died, not with honour in battle, but as an invalid. Hiccup remained melancholic however. He still blamed himself for their predicament, and for getting his father killed when he had only just evaded Hel. 

“Odin’s beard, Hiccup, it’s  _ not  _ your fault” Stoick insisted. “Drago Bludvist would have destroyed us sooner or later. We knew that when we chose to stand up against him.” 

“I thought we’d have a chance! If you knew we’d all die, why bother fighting at all?” 

“You know why, just as well as I do, Hiccup. Some things are worth dying for.” 

It was only worth dying for if it did something worthwhile, thought Hiccup. If they lost, Drago would take over the world with dragons. The sole consolation he had was that some of their tribe would survive. Maybe they and their allies could band together with Eret and his crew, and find somewhere to hide from Drago. He could only hope. 

His bleak frame of mind was interrupted by Viggo remarking, “as inspiring as that is, chief, a battle is nothing without proper tactics.” On the lid of the barrel between them he placed a large pebble. “From what the Terrors have said, Drago has sent most of his larger ships away to the east. Smidvarg tells me that they are ‘building a nest’, which I can only assume means a base, here on the island. Rather ironic, that.” 

“But the flagship is still here” said Hiccup, tapping the pebble. “And the Sea-Giant.” 

“Precisely” Viggo nodded, smirking. “And our numbers are limited, but now, so are theirs. Once again Drago Bludvist’s arrogance has become his undoing, I dare say.” 

“You, err, you do remember there’s an army of dragons we have to get past first?” 

“As a matter of fact, yes. Less of the snark, thank you.” 

“Good luck with that. I’ve been trying to get him to curb his sharp wit for  _ years _ .” 

Hiccup pouted, although Stoick had truly never done such a thing. “I’m right here, y’know. So, what’s your plan to get past the armoured dragons?” he asked Viggo. 

“First, we must send out Terrors to scout and tell us where Drago is - in this base, or on his ship. Those of us who are staying to fight should emerge first, to cover the ones retreating. I’m sure that much goes without saying. Our goal is to evade the armoured dragons, get past Drago’s defences, and capture him” Viggo explained. He surrounded the large pebble with several smaller ones, representing the dragons. 

“Capture?” Hiccup repeated, brow furrowed. “I thought we were going to kill him.” 

Stoick gave a nod. “Aye, we are. But why grant him a warrior’s death in battle when we can have him executed for his crimes?” he asked. Hiccup had assumed the whole ‘blast Drago into smithereens’ plan  _ was _ executing the man, but his father had a point. 

Viggo elaborated “remember, Drago controls the Bewilderbeast, so if we can control Drago...besides, it’s not like he’d be given pause by us holding anyone  _ else _ hostage.” 

Hiccup had to concede. “You could’ve told me you were planning this,” he accused. 

“I would have, if you’d asked” Viggo replied mildly, “but it seemed you had enough on your mind lately. So...does that mean you no longer think we’re all doomed and that perhaps you’re not a failure?” he asked pointedly, smirking. Hiccup glared at him. 

“I think we’d be slightly less doomed, but that’s it. No, actually…” The young man reached out and rearranged the pebbles on the lid. “We don’t  _ all  _ need to overrun the camp or the flagship, or whatever. If one team captures Drago, the other can distract the Bewilderbeast. There  _ has _ to be a way to get close enough to it” Hiccup insisted. 

“Why, because it’s hiding underneath the ship? Our dragons can swim, can’t they?” 

“No, it’s not that” replied Viggo, “the Bewilderbeast can somehow repel the dragons, even if we’re riding them. Hm...Toothless, what exactly does that repulsion feel like?” 

The Night Fury tried to explain. “Meatlug says...feels like throbbing? Big, loud throb.” 

“Loud noises disorient dragons,” Hiccup noted. “Like the Screaming Death’s...well, scream. So, what, should we just plug their ears and hope for the best?” he asked. 

“That’s exactly what I was going to suggest; oh, and instead of trying to fly down to the water, the dragons can just fold their wings and...drop.” Hiccup and Toothless raised their eyebrows. “What? Not every plan of mine is overly elaborate, you know.” 

Trying not to laugh, Hiccup retorted “did you really just say that with a straight face?” 

Stoick cleared his throat pointedly. “If you two are quite finished…” They both looked sheepish. “I’ll lead the team to capture Drago,” he declared. “That monster wants to destroy my people and he is going to pay for that.” The chief’s expression was dark. 

Then again, so was Hiccup’s. “Toothless and I will lead the second team to distract the Bewilderbeast” he said, adding to Viggo, “d’you think we can rustle up something to help us breathe underwater? I’d rather not have to hold my breath that long.” 

“It depends on what we have to work with, but I’m sure we’ll figure something out” replied Viggo, “and I must say, it’s good to see you...well,  _ happier _ than you’ve been.” 

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah...it feels like we might actually have a chance.”   


* * *

The distinct lack of Death Song amber, or any other waterproof material, meant that creating one diving helmet, much less several, was pretty much impossible. So the plan changed to a few riders capturing Drago whilst the others provided cover fire and kept the armoured dragons at bay. Then, once the warlord was apprehended, he would be used to lure the Bewilderbeast into the open for them to attack and distract. 

Now that they had a solid plan, one which gave them the best opportunity to survive - to  _ win  _ \- everyone was in high spirits, despite their uncomfortable situation. When day broke, at last they could get out of this wretched cavern; at last the dragons would be able to stretch their wings! Just before the sun rose, they checked their weapons and saddles, too agitated to try and eat. Then, from the waterfall tunnel, came scuffling. 

The dragons who heard it first growled, alerting their riders, and tenseness rippled out through the cavern. Hands went to weapons and fangs were bared as something came down the tunnel...until a flattened dark blue head emerged from the shadows. 

Everyone relaxed - it wasn’t an enemy. “Thornado!” Stoick exclaimed cheerfully, as his former dragon crawled out of the tunnel, flattened body turned to the side to fit. 

Eret squeezed out behind him. Hiccup came forwards. “Please tell me you found” - 

“I did” the former trapper nodded, “it’s on its way. And there’s something else; I met another rider up there, like you guys, but she’s not one of you. Rides a Stormcutter.” 

Those within earshot glanced at each other and muttered in surprise. “Another rider?” Hiccup repeated, intrigued. “Who are they?” He didn’t know of any riders in the north. 

“I have no idea. She just calls herself ‘V’. To be honest, I think she’s gone a bit…” He twirled his finger near his temple. “The way she talks, it’s like she’s forgotten how to. But the weird thing is, she only agreed to help after I mentioned your names” said Eret, looking from Hiccup to his father. “Said she knew you both, a long time ago.” 

That was puzzling, indeed. “The only rider we know whose name starts with V is this guy” Tuff commented, pointing at Viggo. “Do you have a long lost sister?” he asked. 

“I’m afraid not.” 

“But if she was lost, how would you know?” Ruffnut asked with a triumphant smirk. 

Hiccup said impatiently, “that’s enough, you two. Eret, where is this rider now?” 

He replied “I was about to say, she’s waiting in that cave back there. She wants to see you both - just you two - but she told me to tell you to leave your weapons here.” 

“Oh, did she?” Stoick raised his eyebrows. “Well, c’mon then, son. Let’s go meet this mysterious dragon rider.” He handed his axe to Gobber for safekeeping and set off through the tunnel. Hiccup followed right behind, keeping  _ Inferno _ at his hip. When it was retracted, the sword wasn’t quite identifiable as a weapon, and they had no idea who this woman was. If she’d known them once, a lot must have changed since then. 

Stoick emerged from the tunnel, the waterfall thundering off the side, and Hiccup stepped out behind him. The cavern was large, but even so,the unfamiliar dragon had to crouch to fit inside. It had a flattened, owlish face with a fleshy ruff and two long broad horns. Stoick froze at the sight of it, face contorted into a scowl. “ _ Devil _ .” 

The sheer venom in his father’s tone made Hiccup stare at him in alarm. “Dad?” 

“Did you think I wouldn’t recognise you?” Stoick demanded of the Stormcutter, who was growling, clearly offended. “Did you think I wouldn’t remember what you did?!” He strode forwards all of a sudden, reaching to grasp a weapon that wasn’t there. 

“No!” cried a new voice, and a figure Hiccup hadn’t noticed - because they’d been crouched by the dragons wing - darted between the Stormcutter and his father. They wore mismatched armour and a strange, dragon-like helm, wielded a quarterstaff. So they could have a weapon, but he and his dad couldn’t? They spoke again. “Stoick.” 

The chief had stopped, fists clenched at his sides. “That’s me. You’re the rider. V.” 

She gave a nod, face still hidden behind that masked helmet. “Our friend Eret tells us you knew us once, but I don’t recall us ever having met. So who are you, exactly?” 

Very slowly, she put the quarterstaff down, and straightened up. She was tall - a little taller than Hiccup, in fact, much to his chagrin. Then she removed the helmet. She had an oval face, long auburn hair streaked with grey, and green-blue eyes. Hiccup didn’t recognise her at all - but his father  _ flinched,  _ and gasped. “No...it can’t be…” 

“I thought you...were  _ dead _ ” she whispered. “I...I’m sorry I didn’t come back to you.” 

Hiccup was getting more bewildered by the second, but Stoick reached out a hand towards her. “I thought... you dead” she repeated, tears in her eyes. “ _ Were  _ dead. I looked back, saw fire - saw roof, the roof collapse. Would come back if I knew! But I not know - did not know. Why...why are you not angry? Stoick...don’t be so  _ stoic! _ ” 

His hand, which had been slowly moving towards her all this time, came to rest against her cheek. She was  _ real,  _ flesh and blood. She leaned into his touch. “You’re as beautiful as the day I lost you” he murmured, tears in his eyes, and kissed her. 

Hiccup’s jaw dropped. In twenty years he’d never known his dad to kiss anyone, because the only woman Stoick ever wanted to kiss had died when Hiccup was a baby. Then he remembered being told that his mother had been carried off by a wild dragon with four wings - which the Stormcutter had. His father had recognised it, and the woman - V, his mother’s name was  _ Valka…  _ They broke apart and turned to him. 

“It’s alright” his father smiled, looking happier than he’d ever seen. “Everything’s fine.” 

Suddenly, they heard a great roar from outside, where the rising sun was illuminating the waterfall into a prismatic kaleidoscope. He took a step backwards, then another, before hurrying back down the tunnel. Back to the riders, and Toothless, to get his dragon out of that cavern and into the open air. He’d deal with this huge change later.   


* * *

The trapdoor was open, the cavern already empty. Toothless was waiting for him, shifting impatiently from paw to paw. “Let’s go, bud,” Hiccup urged, vaulting into the saddle. Without hesitation, Toothless spread his wings and flew through the opening into fresh air. The sunlight was blinding; but they heard shrieks, cheers and bellows. 

Quickly Hiccup’s eyes adjusted, and he saw hundreds of armoured dragons clash with a flock they didn’t recognise; but the most thrilling sight was the Bewilderbeasts, leviathans of the deep, battling in the shallows. They locked their tusks together; Drago’s Bewilderbeast, dull iron grey with blood red tipped spikes and covered in scars, fought against the King of Dragons, greyish white with scarlet tipped spikes. 

Hiccup knew which of them he was rooting for. Toothless noticed Stormfly and Thornado were in danger and raced to intervene. His plasma blast stunned the Thunderclaw, and Thornado’s roar knocked it out of the sky. Eret was sitting on the Thunderdrum’s back. “Welcome aboard, dragon rider!” Hiccup grinned cheerfully. 

“Thanks!” he replied with a nervous grin, trying to keep his balance. “I think?!” 

“So, who is she?” Astrid prompted, “that other dragon rider?” 

At first he hesitated; he hadn’t quite wrapped his head around it yet. Then they heard a roar, and looked back to see the Stormcutter hovering in the air, four wings beating in a mesmerising pattern, with his rider standing tall on his back. She twirled her staff and thrust it towards the hunters camp; several Zipplebacks dived and tucked into wheels, grasping their tails in their mouths and rolling along as flaming, living wheels. 

_ I didn’t know they could do that!  _ Hiccup felt a sudden surge of delight and pride. He looked at an equally amazed Astrid and said, “believe it or not, she’s kinda my mom.” 

She stared at him, then at the masked rider, then at him again. “That’s your  _ mother _ ?!” 

“I guess now we know where I get my dramatic flair!” he laughed, and Toothless banked away, eager to join the battle. To be honest, they wanted to show off as well. 

Half of the plan was scuppered, but in the best way. With the dark Bewilderbeast well and truly distracted, the armoured dragons it commanded were left without orders. Many of them were already surrendering, landing on the ground and ceasing to fight. The other part of the plan however, to capture Drago -  _ that _ could still be achieved. 

Stoick intended to do just that, but first he and Skullcrusher had to deal with… “ _ Alvin _ .” 

“Good to see you’re still alive, old friend!” the Outcast leered at him from the back of that crimson Rumblehorn. Stoick hated to think what happened to the Thunderdrum Alvin used to ride; the poor dragon had been cast aside for something better, not let go for his own sake. “Such a shame it’s not gonna be for much longer!” Alvin taunted. 

_ Here we go again.  _ “I was about to say the same about you” Stoick retorted, “only it wouldn’t be a shame at all!” He urged Skullcrusher forwards to grapple with the other dragon, hefting his weapon in one hand and holding on with the other. Whilst their Rumblehorns battled in midair, he and Alvin struck at each other with axe or hammer. 

The crimson Rumblehorn shoved Skullcrusher to the ground and Stoick tumbled off. Unlike last time, he rolled to his feet and turned to block Alvin’s strike. They grappled with each other; Alvin swung his hammer up high...then a shadow fell over them, and a wooden hook dragged him back by the neck. Choking, he twisted to strike Valka, who spun out of the way with a graceful pivot and tripped Alvin up with her staff. 

He staggered, and before he could regain his balance, Stoick threw the axe into his chest. Valka shoved him with her staff and Alvin toppled off the edge of the cliff, dead.

“You’re as wonderful a fighter as ever, Val,” Stoick told his long lost wife, who blushed. Skullcrusher and Cloudjumper chased off the other Rumblehorn and roared at their riders impatiently. There was still a battle going on, they could flirt later! Yet no sooner had they gotten back in the air than they both witnessed something horrifying. 

* * *

Toothless and Hiccup had been darting back and forth across the battlefield, firing at the war machines and traps. Once those were destroyed and the armoured dragons subdued, they could force Drago and his army to surrender, or so he hoped. Despite everything, part of Hiccup rebelled at the thought of just wiping them all out. He knew they deserved it, or at least Bludvist did, but it just wasn’t in his nature to be vengeful. 

The few times he had desired vengeance, he’d quickly been talked out of it again. 

It was hard not to watch the spectacle of the Bewilderbeasts grappling, with water surging around them. It was rather how Hiccup imagined a fight between jotunns. Then he saw that the white Bewilderbeast was being shoved back by the grey one, and about to lose its footing - and he knew if Grey won, they would all be doomed. 

“Toothless” he gasped out, and he didn’t have to explain, the Night Fury just  _ knew _ . He folded his wings and they plummeted - White lost his balance and Grey threw him against the cliff, tusks rattling, the rock face crumbling - they weren’t going to make it! 

Just as Grey was about to impale White on his tusks, Toothless dug deep, threw all his willpower into an earsplitting roar, and fired directly at Grey’s one weak point - the eyes. His aim was spot on as ever and Grey bellowed in pain as his right eye was hit with a blast; distracting him just long enough for White to struggle back to his feet. 

Toothless fanned out his wings and skimmed along the length of Grey’s back, straight towards the huge tail with too much momentum to turn. They managed to barrel roll past it and climbed into the air, where they were joined by Stormfly and Moonlight. 

“Did you two just take on a Bewilderbeast?” 

“It was about to kill the one on our side! We had to do  _ something _ !” 

“Look!” Viggo cried urgently, pointing. Drago was half running, half limping towards the cliff, just where Grey’s side was brushing against it. He had almost reached it when a row of Nadder spikes embedded into the ground right in front of him. He stabbed his bullhook down to balance himself and glared around at the three snarling dragons - the Night Fury, the Skrill and a Nadder - that had just surrounded him. 

“Going somewhere?” Hiccup asked sarcastically. “You’re gonna miss all the fun.” 

Drago scowled and raised his bull-hook, but Toothless fired a blast to knock it out of his hand. It fell to the ground between Stormfly and Moonlight - Hookfang landed on top of it, growling; followed by Meatlug, Barf-and-Belch, Windshear and Sleuther. He was encircled by bared fangs. “Fools! The beasts will turn on all of you too, one day!”

“I doubt that” Hiccup replied coldly. “We don’t fear them...but you should. Now!” 

All eight dragons fired in unison at Drago, engulfing him in flames. The dragon skin cloak wouldn’t defend him against such a barrage - white hot fire, a plasma blast, the last of Moonlight’s lightning and a globule of lava. He fell to the ground, battered and wheezing. Choking, humiliated, the warlord still tried to struggle to his feet again. 

Windshear knocked him down again, and Sleuther pinned him by his cloak. Heather and Mala stood over him, weapons in hand. “This is for Dagur” they said in unison; then slammed their weapons down into his skull, and Drago Bludvist moved no more. 

Heather wrenched her axe free and stepped back. “I can’t believe it’s finally over” she admitted, climbing back into the saddle. “After everything...it almost seems too easy.” 

“Hey look,” Ruffnut grinned, “we blew his arm right off.” She pointed at a large metal gauntlet on the grass besides Drago’s corpse. “Who only wears armour on one arm?” 

Hiccup dismounted and went to get a closer look. “It’s fake” he announced, giving the prosthetic arm a kick. “I bet my dad’ll wanna keep this as a trophy. Same with the” - 

An ear splitting roar cut him off, and hands were clapped over ears. Grey loomed over them, pupils slit, mouth opening. Toothless lunged forward. The dragons took off of their own accord, scattering in all directions. Astrid looked back, and her heart constricted in terror. There were spikes of ice everywhere, but no sign of - “ _ Hiccup _ !” 

* * *

Stoick and Valka had seen the whole thing - the Bewilderbeast spitting ice, and Toothless leaping to shield Hiccup as the other dragons just barely dodged out of the way. The moment they realised what had happened, Stormfly and the others rushed back to the mound of ice, flaming and clawing at it desperately to save their friends. 

Cloudjumper and Skullcrusher joined in. Stoick dismounted and beat his fists against the ice, unable to accept this - that his son - “Hiccup!” he shouted as if he’d be heard. This couldn’t be happening. After all that had happened, it could not end like this! He heard Valka beside him, sobbing - had the gods returned her just to take their son? 

Except that the ice began to shine from within, and a familiar whistling shriek could be heard from cracks all the way through it. Everyone quickly backed away, and the heap of ice  _ exploded,  _ chunks of it flying out all over the place. Stoick moved to shield Valka with his body; when they looked again, the most incredible sight met their eyes. 

The spines down Toothless’ back were  _ glowing _ , as he rose from a crouch and roared at the top of his lungs. He briefly looked under his wing to check on Hiccup, who gave him a tentative smile, before gathering himself and leaping onto a chunk of ice still standing. Hiccup tried to stand, breathless; his parents rushed over to help him up. 

“Hiccup! Son, are you alright?” 

“I’m fine. Toothless, how is he…” Hiccup stared in awe at his dragons glowing spines, as the Night Fury fired again and again at the much harried Grey Bewilderbeast. 

“He’s challenging an alpha dragon,” Valka told him, beaming. “To protect you!” 

Well, yes, that was obvious, and he’d actually been talking about the glow. Then Toothless roared, and the other dragons roared back, wild and armoured alike. He leapt back to Hiccup’s side and jerked his head. Hiccup grinned and rushed to vault into the saddle - whatever was going on, they’d face it together, like they always did. 

Toothless took off, and the other dragons joined him in bombarding Grey with fire blasts. Even the armoured dragons did so, freed from control and turning on their former alpha. He staggered back, too overwhelmed to retaliate, until his face was engulfed in smoke. Then came the ominous creak of metal, and those massive shackles around his tusks were blasted off, splashing into the water at his feet. 

White roared, and the barrage ceased. Grey, faced with a rival and an onslaught from two flocks worth of dragons, finally conceded and bowed his head, before turning and plunging beneath the ocean again, swimming off to lick his wounds. The flagship had long since left, sailed away by the survivors to get out of range of the leviathans fight. 

Toothless landed, and Hiccup climbed off. Astrid was right behind him, leaping out of the saddle and throwing herself into his arms. “You’re alive!” she gasped, kissing him hard enough to bruise. Moments later the twins were flinging their arms around the happy couple. Heather, Fishlegs and Snotlout quickly joined the group hug as well. 

Everyone was cheering and applauding. Hiccup managed to extricate himself from the group hug and turned to his father. “Drago Bludvist is dead,” he announced. “Heather and Mala dealt the final blow.” He didn’t want to take the credit for their kill. 

Stoick beamed at her, and declared to the crowd, “Drago fell at the hands of Heather and Queen Mala. We will feast in their honour!” This was met with more cheering. 

“Valka?” asked Spitelout, recognising her at last. Murmurs broke out on all sides as everyone stared at the chief’s long lost, presumed dead wife, who looked ready to run to her dragon and flee. Stoick put his arm around her and glared at Spitelout. 

Gobber helpfully diverted attention from her by yelling “Oi! What part of ‘we’re having a feast’ did you not understand? Those yak chops aren’t gonna cook themselves!” He began to herd the crowd away to organise the feast. They reluctantly left, until only Stoick, Valka, and the dragon riders remained. She was a little more at ease then. 

It still felt a little awkward to Hiccup, because this was his  _ mother  _ but she was also a stranger to him, and he to her. Except for what they both clearly had in common - a love of dragons. Toothless approached her, warbling curiously. “You Hiccup’s dam?” 

“Yes _ , _ ” she replied in Dragonese. Valka glanced at her son and gestured to the Night Fury, asking “can I…?” He nodded. She crouched down and reached out a hand; Toothless sniffed it and purred happily. “Oh, you are  _ beautiful _ . I not-see - I have not seen one of his kind in years. Look!” She brushed the frills on Toothless’ jaw as he all but rolled over into her lap. “I think he is  _ your _ age. Must be why you get on so well.” 

“Huh...whoa, wait, hold on. You’ve seen other Night Furies before? Where? When?” 

His mother looked a bit taken aback by the rapid fire questions. “At my nest” she replied, “but older one..he died, a few years after I was there. I not-know him well.” 

With a sigh, Hiccup explained “Toothless is the only Night Fury we’ve ever found in the archipelago. I’ve no idea where he comes from or...or if he has family out there.” Toothless promptly bounded over to nuzzle him reassuringly. “Heh. Thanks, bud.” 

Valka’s eyes fell on the red tail-fin, and she frowned. Hiccup followed her gaze and sheepishly admitted “Ah, see, I sort of...shot him down. But it’s okay! He got me back. Couldn’t save all of me, could you? You just had to make it even. So...peg leg!” He gestured to his prosthetic, which didn’t help, because she looked even more alarmed. 

“If you not-know other Furies, then...know about split spines?” she asked Toothless, who cocked his head at her. Valka beckoned him closer, and pressed her fingers into the back of his neck, just in front of the saddle. One by one, the spines down his back - which had ceased glowing by now - split down the middle into double triangles. 

Toothless shook himself and looked over his shoulder, finding he could open and close them at will. He gave a huge gummy smile and clapped them together. “Look!” he barked happily at the riders, before bounding to show off to his fellow dragons. 

“Honestly. We find out he can glow, and  _ this  _ is what he gets excited about?” 

Astrid teased, “well, you can’t exactly talk, mister ‘geeks out over every new dragon’.” 

“Ha, ha. Oh! Hey, uh, mom? I’d like you to meet Astrid Hofferson. We’re betrothed” he explained. Astrid smiled at Valka, who smiled back, albeit a little unsurely. “And 

these are our friends - Fishlegs, Snotlout, Ruffnut, Tuffnut...hey, where’s Viggo?” 

“Who cares? Never mind where he’s gone. The real question is, where has  _ she  _ been?” asked Snotlout, pointing at Valka. Astrid whacked him upside the head. “Ow!” 

Stoick glared at his nephew. “That doesn’t matter now. All that matters is that you’re both safe and sound” he told his wife and son, gathering them up into a bear hug. 

“- _ dad! Can’t breathe…”  _

“Sorry.” He let go of them and Hiccup gasped for breath. He met his mother’s eyes; she gave him a knowing, sympathetic look, and he couldn’t help but smile in return. 

* * *

As soon as he realised who the woman with Stoick was, Viggo had slipped away. He was happy for the chief and Hiccup; or at least he liked to think so. But he knew himself well enough to know he was envious of them too. Some people just had all the luck. He went to the other side of the island where he could be alone to think. 

It felt strange to have won; as if their victory was not yet complete. He supposed it wasn’t; they still had to get the other dragons back, after all. “I still can’t believe that Toothless started glowing” he remarked to Moonlight. “Did  _ you _ know he could do it?” 

“Yes, we all can” she answered, much to his surprise. “But rare. Only when needed.” 

“So all dragons can summon that glow, in the right circumstances? Interesting.” 

Moonlight looked at him askance. “Why-you want-come out here alone?” she asked. 

Viggo shrugged. “Do I need a reason? Besides, you’re meant to be a solitary dragon; I’d have thought you’d like getting away from the crowd” he remarked, raising a brow. 

She wasn’t buying it, and hissed. “No lie. You-not come here for  _ me.  _ What wrong?” 

He sighed. “Fine. You want the truth?” Viggo rubbed the scars on his neck. “That new rider, the woman standing with Stoick...she’s his long lost wife. Back from the dead, as it were. I came out here because...I don’t know if I can be around them right now.” 

Moonlight crooned raspily, and he patted her. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine - ah!” he cried, as she gave him a slight shock, yellow eyes narrowed. “What was that for?” 

“You lie,” she hissed. “You not-will be fine. You can lie to the others, but not to me.” 

“I don’t remember making that arrangement,” he deadpanned. Moonlight growled at him. “Okay, okay! You win. I won’t be fine. The only way I’d be fine is if Sigrid came back to life and I know that’s never going to happen. Now if you’ll excuse me, I am going to find a quiet place to think and wonder what I’m even doing with my life.” 

With that Viggo walked away, trudging through the trees until he heard a strange noise. It was a thudding sound, interspersed with cracks and the occasional strangled scream. Curious, he set off towards the noise. It was a good distraction. At last he discovered the source; namely Heather, who was industriously turning a log into kindling with her axe. Far be it from him to interrupt her stress relief, but he emerged. 

The moment he stepped out, she whirled with her axe raised high, and Windshear brandished her spiked tail threateningly. “It’s just me!” Viggo said quickly, holding his shield up just in case. Heather lowered her axe, only for Moonlight - who must have been following him from above - to come and roar at her for nearly throwing it at him. 

“Calm down, my dear. There’s no harm done.” Viggo gestured to the much battered log. “I think there are easier ways to get firewood, you know” he quipped lightly. She scowled. “I see you’re not in a mood to talk. We’ll leave you to it then, shall we?” 

He was about to get back in the saddle when Heather called out, “wait!” Viggo paused and looked at her. “How come you’re out here?” she asked him curiously. 

“I could ask you the same thing” he pointed out, “but if you must know, I wanted to think. Then I heard you, err, taking your feelings out on that hapless log over there.” 

Heather sighed. “I’m just...I dunno. We won, and I’m glad, but it’s like everything’s changed. My family is gone. I avenged Dagur but I didn’t really, because Sleuther already killed his murderer. Then...then Hiccup’s mum shows up out of  _ nowhere _ ” - she cut herself off, fists clenching. “....he’s my friend. I should be happy for him.” 

“But you can’t help feeling envious, instead?” he guessed. “It’s okay. Neither can I.” 

“You?” Heather looked surprised. “But why...oh. Right. That...that must be hard.” 

“It is,” he admitted, surprising himself. “I miss them. But I’m sure I’ll get over myself sooner or later. I can’t exactly avoid Hiccup’s mother if I remain on Berk, and it’s not as if there’s anywhere else I could go.” He paused. “Well, I could find somewhere…” 

After a moment, Heather remarked, “I think Hiccup would miss you, if you left.” She couldn’t resist adding, “I’m not sure if anyone else would, though.” Viggo chuckled. 

“Perhaps, perhaps not. We should probably go back, though. If nothing else, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving” he admitted. “We haven’t even had breakfast yet.” 

Heather smiled. “Good point” she replied, “and Viggo? I just wanna say I’m sorry. For not trusting you, even when you proved you can be trusted. Can we start over?” she asked, offering a handshake, “as friends?” He blinked, then smiled warmly and shook her hand. They went back to their dragons and mounted up to fly back to camp. 


End file.
